Meant to Be
by Nimue Tucker
Summary: Book Seven of The Peacemaker Chronicles - Things have been relatively quiet in Sunnydale...until now. The bad boys have a plan. And it all starts with a wish from a little girl.
1. Whipsers and Sighs

Hello, All(  
  
Well, here begins Book Seven of the Peacemaker Chronicles. That ficlet that keeps on giving. I never planned for it to go this far, but here it is. I owe those of you that have read and given me comments since the beginning, many, many thanks. The story would have stopped long ago were it not for you.  
  
As many of you know, my personal life has been a wreck since the start of book six and the passing of my grandfather. The old adage of "when it rains, it pours" has held true in my circumstance. Hence the delays in starting book seven. I did not want to let the insecurity and upheaval in my real life eaffect the story that many of you rely on to be the happier side of "what could have been.". So, please forgive the delay.  
  
The big perk to having a pretty hard life at the moment, is that I have found some life long friends through writing this story, both directly and indirectly. People who have mentally, physically, and financially been there all the way. So, thank you to you all, especially Brat, Linda, Crystal, Bittn, Karen, Alane, J, Theresa, Melissa, Laurie and of course, my dear Kay.  
  
Because of my personal circumstances, I cannot say, with all certainty, when the chapters will be released. I can tell you that I will release at least one a week, with my goal being two. I have some massive changes coming up in RL and it may disrupt me here and there, but I will do my best. For you.  
  
With all that said, welcome to Book Seven. I hope that you enjoy it. As always, your comments, emails and questions make me think, and create and write, so please let me know on Always, BAPS and ff.net, what you think. This story would no longer exist without you all reminding me how much you want it, and reminding me how much I love to write.  
  
Again, thank you all for your kindness throughout this story. I would not, nor could I, do this without you.  
  
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue  
  
Title: Whispers and Sighs (Chapter One of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
Summary: Welcome to the beginning of Book Seven of the Peacemaker Chronicles. This book is set about one year after the ending of Book Six, which puts us in about September of 2010.  
  
Just to give you a little timeline of the Peacemaker story to date, which I had to do anyway to start up again, here are some dates of major events. This story breaks AU after Normal Again, in April 2002. In Book One, Buffy finds out that she is pregnant with Emma. Emma is then born in Book Two in what would be October 2002 (the date being 10/29/02). William was born in Book Five when Emma was three, which makes his birthday 05/30/06. River Harris, daughter of Takina and Xander born 03/9/07 and Randolph (aka Randy) Giles (yes, you got that right), son of Rupert and Anya, who insisted on the name, on 11/25/07. Lastly, Willow and Tara gave birth to a son and a daughter respectively (thanks to Oz's input) born 09/20/09. This story is then set in September 2010. Buffy and Spike have been together for eight years and hand fasted for four (August 2006). They live in the same house on Revello. Dawn is in design school and lives with her boyfriend Brian, although they live nearby. Xander and Takina are married. Officially. Giles and Anya are not. But they do their own thing. She sort of decided that the dress was too much anyway. Willow, Tara and Oz. well, that is yet to be told.  
  
Things have been relatively quiet in Sunnydale since the last round with evil in Book Six. Just the run of the mill apocalypses. But the Windsor's have been free of attacks on Emma and their family and friends while the forces of evil regroup. That is until now. But the bad boys have a new plan, not that any of them are particularly effective. But this one is just downright mean. And the wish of a little girl is what starts it all.  
  
Welcome back to Sunnydale 2010.  
  
Whispers and Sighs  
  
He walked silently for a moment, watching the cracks in the ground pass under his feaet. William was careful not to step on them. Didn't want to break anything else on mummy. Specially not her back. He was older now, but still young enough to believe in the fairy tales and superstitions. Still young enough to cling to his father's hand as they walked and trust the bigger man to make sure the monsters stayed away. That's what he did. Dad and Mum. Chased the monsters away.  
  
"You all right, Will?" Spike asked, tugging the pensive child's hand as they walked along the tree lined sidewalk. "Seem a bit lost."  
  
William looked up at what his face would be in in 30thirty some years. Rugged and handsome and kind. The boy squinted in the sunlight and Spike moved to block the rays from the child's face instinctively. "I'm okay," he answered quietly.  
  
Spike stopped, the boy stopping next to him. "Been walking long enough, tot," he said quietly, leaning down and hoisting the boy up. William grumbled, but secretly was glad to be in his dad's arms. It was safe there and something bad was coming. "Want to tell me what's on your mind?"  
  
William was quiet as Spike walked towards the school, watching the shadows in the trees covering the lane. It was a long time before he spoke. "Why is mum sad?"  
  
Spike stopped again, amazed at the boy's uncanny ability to read his family. And River. William went into a panic clear down the road when he knew that girl was upset. Between heim and Xander, they'd thought of building some kind of ski lift between the two houses to save the frantic jog every time, but then the two men invariably huffed in disgust at each other and drank another beer.  
  
"You're mum's not sad," Spike answered, brushing hair out of the boy's face. It was mostly true. Buffy had been a little down lately, but everyone got that way from time to time. Truth be told, Spike had as well. Much of a pleasure that those two tots of the witches had been, they were a constant reminder that Spike and Buffy would never have a normal family. A normal marriage where you make mistakes and triumphs, and love and babies when you could or would. The Fates owned their lives. Most of the time that was fine. They were The One and they had more than they could ask for.  
  
Other times, it was a painful reality. They were at the mercy of outside forces. Their gifts came with athe price and that was that they hadof having little control. Sometimes, that made Buffy sad. And it made Spike angry because he wanted to give her everything she wanted. But he couldn't give her this. This especially. A man should be able to give his wife children. That was his job.  
  
Spike swallowed a growl and thought of a way to explain it to the four year old who was clinging to his hip. Softly, he smiled at the boy. Too easy to forget, sometimes, that Fate gave them two perfect tots as it stood. Shouldn't be so selfish. "Think your mum just misses fussing over you when you were smaller, is all," Spike explained, ruffling the boy's hair again.  
  
"She wants another baby?" William asked, still watching his father with serious eyes. "Coz of Loki and Kali?"  
  
Spike shook his head. The boy was good. "Think they remind her of when you two were smaller."  
  
"I'm still small," William said, hanging his head. He was small for his age and he knew it. One of the downsides of being premature. But he was growing now and strong and smart as a whip. But, like his father, acutely aware of his faults.  
  
Spike set the boy on the ground, letting him walk again as they approached the school. "Not like your mum's very big and she can kick me cross the pond," Spike consoled. "And Emma's just a wee thing and she's."  
  
"Magic," William answered, smiling, looking up at his dad's blue eyes. It made Spike smile, the raw adoration that Will had for his sister. That would change forward and back for years to come, but right now, they stuck together, with River, like the Three Musketeers.  
  
"That she is, tot," Spike answered, walking round the back of the school to the playground. Emma was waiting with a bunch of other students, swinging languidly in the late summer air. "That she is."  
  
"Daddy!" The little girl's voice cried out in absolute joy as she jumped off the swing and tore across the sandlot, fuzzy pink backpack slapping into her with each long stride. William was nearly hopping in place with excitement. The teachers watched the little girl hurtle through the air, landing with her legs around the attractive man in the black long sleeve shirt, and the way the man hugged her close, planting a gentle kiss in her hair.  
  
The female teacher's sighed. And some of the males.  
  
Mr. Windsor.  
  
Sigh.  
  
Spike waved at the gaggle of kids and teachers, shifting the 7 year old onto one hip and pulling the tot up to hang on to the other. This was a change from ten years ago. Walking away from the playground, two kids in tow, broad daylight, and nodding at the PTA. Not quite the least bit scary. But this was his life.  
  
And he wouldn't ever go back. ~~~~~  
  
It was a beautiful day, even if she was walking over the Hellmouth, Anya thought as she carried Randy on one hip and River on the other and strolled up the walk to Xander and Takina's house. She and Giles lived a bit further out of town now. They'd upsized their home to move the nanny in full time, and in hopes of another baby or two. Someday. But Anya insisted that Randy be in school first because she liked too fuss too much over one to have two small ones all the time. So, there were a couple of years yet.  
  
Xander, however, had stayed close to home base and bought and renovated a house less than a block from Buffy's. Just around the end of Revello on Tulip. The house was much nicer than it had been when they'd bought it, thanks to a whole lot of help from the construction crew Xander had working for him. They were even thinking about a pool, that is if he oculdcould prove to Takina that he could safety proof it so that none of the little ones could wander in and.  
  
Couldn't think about that.  
  
This had become a daily summer ritual. While the days were long and Buffy was helping out with Willow and Tara's kids, Anya would watch River and Randy during the day. Xander would get home early and Anya would swing by and pick him up and they'd all meet up at the park. None of them could ever quite figure out how it started, but he showed up there one day to claim his little girl and Buffy and Spike were spread out on a blanket, mooning over the witchlets and watching Emma and Will play with River and Randy and Anya would swing on the playsetplay set, keeping an eye on them all. He ended up swinging next to her, watching them, remembering simpler times. Then someone from the Willow household would show and pick up the twins, as they'd come to be known, and they'd all just sit there and watch dusk fall. Sometimes they laughed. Sometimes they didn't speak. But always they were there.  
  
He'd miss this when the days were short,short; Xander mused as he locked the door behind him and took River from a smiling Anya, cudllingcuddling the little girl close to his chest and kissing her forehead. She giggled, as the happy little one always did, and wrapped her arms around her daddy's neck, letting her head drop onto his shoulder.  
  
It was a beautiful day over the Hellmouth, so Xander and Anya walked together with their kids in silence. It never crossed their minds anymore what could have been, because what *was* was so much better.  
  
~~~~~ ~~~~~  
  
~~~~~~~~Their hands were sticky messes, Spike thought as Will reached up to grab his father's fingers. Spike chuckled as he looked down at the boy, covered in chocolate ice cream from forehead to toes. Emma was doing slightly better, but her butter pecan was smeared all over her hands. It was warm and the napkins weren't helping.  
  
"Not a chance, Will," Spike chided, smiling and handing his son a napkin. "You're mum is going to kill the lot of us."  
  
"I'll help her clean up," Emma chanted, walking to her brother and dutifully wiping off his hands.  
  
Again, Spike smiled. "Only because you don't want her to stop letting me take you for ice cream after school." The girl looked like a deer in headlights, blushing at being caught. "Don't worry, Mite. Secret's safe," he comforted, watching the grin break on her face.  
  
They rounded the corner and before they even reached the edge of the grassy field, William was at a run. River sat on the edge of the sandbox, long dark ringlets shining in the late day sun. Emma looked back up at her dad, waiting for permission, but as soon as he began to nod, she was off.  
  
Spike strolled behind them, watching his own dive in with the rest, completely at home and safe with each other, and with Anya and Xander watching over them like hawks. He took a moment, surveying the green, lush field, trying to spot her. He could already feel her like a sweet, white light, warming his veins, but the little rise from field to sidewalk shielded her from view.  
  
As he crested the hill, he saw her. Buffy was stretched out on a huge blanket, staring at the clouds rolling over head. Loki, Willow and Oz's son, was stretched out on her stomach, staring up at her face. Kali, Tara and Oz's daughter, was curled in the crook of Buffy's arm, watching her quietly.  
  
"Looks comfy," Spike purred as he stood behind Buffy, bringing her back to reality. "Got room for a Vampire who just got sized up on the sandlot in an elementary school?"  
  
Buffy smiled, shielding her eyes and looking at her beautiful other half, standing behind her head. He stared down at her with such complete devotion. It made her heart ache with joy. "You like it," she joked.  
  
"Like what, Pet?" Spike joked, lowering himself on the blanket next to her and pulling her head into his lap. He stroked her hair quietly as she stared up at him.  
  
"Getting all ogled by the teaching staff," Buffy chided. "Makes you feel all manly."  
  
"Does not!" Spike huffed with mock offense. Buffy smiled again, calling his bluff, but he wouldn't budge. "I don't."  
  
"I see," she commented knowingly. "Brats with River?"  
  
"Yes, the galloping horde of energy is currently wrestling in the sandbox," Spike answered.  
  
"Covered in ice cream?"  
  
Spike shrugged. "They're tots. Bound to be covered in something."  
  
"Good, coz you're going to be covered in laundry detergent," she said, leaning up and letting him brush his lips to hers. "Night off tonight? I don't feel like patrolling."  
  
Spike took a look around, sizing up the serenity of the scene. "Don't see why not, Love. Been quiet of late."  
  
"Want to spend it with you," Buffy whispered, brushing her lips to his again. He smiled against the softness of her mouth.  
  
"Want me to ask the git if he can have an overnight with Emma and Will?"  
  
Buffy nodded quietly. "Yeah. Tell him we'll take them all on Friday night. Dawn can baby-sit while we patrol."  
  
"Right then," Spike agreed, his mind reeling with devious thoughts. "So, how are the witchlets today?"  
  
Buffy sat up, handing Loki to Spike and pulling Kali into her arms. "Are they Witchlets or Wolflets? Or is it pups?"  
  
"Not sure," Spike answered, sitting the boy on his outstretched legs. "Handsome little devils, though."  
  
"Pretty," Buffy corrected, brushing the wispy light brown hair out of the little girl's eyes.  
  
"Personally, I'm thinking cute," a voice said from their right. Buffy and Spike both whipped around to see Oz standing next to the blanket. "And I thought you had Vampire hearing," Oz snarked.  
  
"Must have been turned off," Spike countered.  
  
"Nah, you were deafened by the power of excessive cuteness," Oz replied, nodding sagely. "Need to get them home soon. Willow and Tara were out on interviews today."  
  
"They're going back to work?" Buffy asked, pushing herself to her feet.  
  
"Well, part time, at least. I keep telling them that I can afford to take care of them," Oz countered, "But I think that they feel like. I dunno, like they want to make sure that they can make it on their own?"  
  
"I don't think that," Buffy corrected, shaking her head and softly handing the little girl to her father. "Think it has more to do with grown up stuff. You know? I mean, I love having Will and Emma around, but sometimes it's nice to see adults and talk in languages that other humans understand."  
  
"Probably just need a change of scenery, Mate," Spike contributed, situating the little boy on Oz's other hip. Both kids clung to their father, staring up at him adoringly. It had been a little strange at first, but Oz had stayed to help Tara and Willow right after the babies were born. The kids grew so attached, he grew so attached to them, and Willow and Tara just. It was best this way. Oz lived in a separate bedroom in the same flat with the girls. They were a family now. A different one, but one all the same.  
  
"Yeah," Oz answered. "I just."  
  
"They love having you there," Buffy interrupted. "In fact, Willow told me herself that she was all happy that you stayed."  
  
"She did?" Oz asked brightening.  
  
Buffy nodded. "So go. Be all, super dad."  
  
"Plan to," Oz agreed smiling. "Thanks for watching them."  
  
"Sure," Buffy called as the werewolf strolled away. She watched him go, cooing to his babies, remembering when Will was that little. When Emma was. She missed that.  
  
"You all right, Love?" Spike asked, wrapping an arm around her waist.  
  
She jumped a little, mustering a fragile smile. "Definitely. Now, where are ours? Can't believe I got the cold shoulder."  
  
Spike sighed. "Alas, the magic of River."  
  
Buffy returned the sigh, wrapping her fingers through her lovers'. "We're second fiddle to a three year old."  
  
"Well, you're the whole bloody symphony to me," Spike whispered, nuzzling her shiny blonde hair. "Always."  
  
Buffy smiled, looking up at him. His eyes. Those endless blue eyes. "Everyday, Spike."  
  
To be contd. 


	2. The Werewolf, The Witches, and The Forem...

Hey, everyone(  
  
Well, I actually managed to get this one out on time, even with the upcoming Tampa trip. Next week's will be a little dodgier, but I will see what I can do.  
  
Thanks to Brat, Crystal and Alane for beta'ing for me. You guys totally rock!  
  
Enjoy, and I hope to have chapter three out next Tuesday!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*,  
  
Nimue  
  
Title: The Werewolf, The Witches and the Foreman (Chapter Two of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
Summary: Dawn and Brian discuss the status of their relationship. Willow, Tara and Oz share a quiet evening at home. Xander has a talk with Emma about her parents, their past, present and their future.  
  
The Werewolf, the Witches and the Foreman  
  
"Okay, so tell me you're not the *best* boyfriend in the world," Dawn cooed, her eyes closing, her head lolling back against the pillows. A small moan escaped her lips and her eyes rolled back at the pleasure of it all. "I bet Spike never did this for Buffy."  
  
Brian chuckled, keeping up the tempo. "Dawn, I doubt there is anything fangy hasn't done for your sister."  
  
"Ahhhh," she sighed, her back arching against the comforter. "She's a lucky girl."  
  
"What about you?" Brian asked, kissing her softly.  
  
"I'm like. supercalifragilisticexpialidocious," Dawn answered, shoving her foot further into his hands as he rubbed them, soft and strong, turning her into a puddle of goo. "I had *no* idea that they were so tired."  
  
"Design school will do that to you," Brian answered, continuing the deep, rhythmic, rub.  
  
"What does law school do to you?" She asked, situating herself against the pillows.  
  
"Melts your brain. Turns it into legalese oatmeal," he smiled, kissing her big toe.  
  
A sly grin broke across her face. "Well, I'll have to figure out how to separate your mind from your body and distract you later. I mean, if you want."  
  
"I always want," Brian purred, letting his finger roam to her calves.  
  
They were both silent for a long moment, him gently rubbing her legs and her purring at the contact. Both of them could feel words building, but neither could set them out for the other to hear.  
  
Finally, Brian broke the silence. "Dawnie?"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you ever. I mean. we've been living together for over a year now."  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"Do you. I mean. Where are we?" He finally asked, his fingers upping the tempo to counter the shake in his hands.  
  
"In bed," Dawn snarked, stretching her arms above her like a cat. "And loving it."  
  
He sighed, knowing she knew what he meant, but she was avoiding it, as always. "Hummingbird, you know what."  
  
"We're us," Dawn interrupted. "I mean, I'm happy. I think you're happy. Why change?"  
  
"Because I.."  
  
"You what?" She asked, sitting up a bit to meet him. "What, Brian?"  
  
"You know I love you, right?"  
  
"I know, baby," Dawn answered, cupping his handsome cheek in her hand. "What's on your mind?"  
  
For a moment, he was silent, chewing his lip and staring at her as if she were his goddess and he merely a peon. "Hummingbird, do you ever.. I mean. what comes next?"  
  
She slumped against the pillows, sighing. "You know how I feel," she answered, curtly.  
  
"Not all relationships are bad, Dawn," Brian countered, pushing himself up next to her. "Not all marriages end in divorce. Not all people end up hating each other."  
  
"Like seventy five percent do," Dawn argued, turning her head to face away. It wasn't the percent that mattered. Only her parents. Brian was from a happier place where both of his parents were still living, and both called him every week. From the same house. Still in love. Dawn had met them over last Christmas and wasn't even sure what to do with that kind of situation.  
  
"You act like you've never seen a serious relationship work," Brian interjected, brushing strands of dark, shiny hair away from Dawn's face. "But look at your sister and Spike. They're basically married and."  
  
"They're handfasted," Dawn snapped. "It's different. No legal brouhaha."  
  
"But to California, they're Mr. and Mrs. Windsor, right?" He almost felt bad arguing this, but Dawn needed to work it out. Needed to know where he stood.  
  
She sighed. "Yes."  
  
"And they love each other. Do you *really* think he'll ever leave her? Cheat on her? Or her him?"  
  
Dawn had to giggle. "Uh, no! I mean, that's like. that's like. I wouldn't even want to *imagine* the smackdown that occurred if that happened."  
  
"But it's not fear that keeps them together, is it?"  
  
"No," Dawn answered, rolling towards her boyfriend. "It's love."  
  
"Sometimes," Brian whispered, moving his face closer to hers. "Love *is* enough."  
  
"Sometimes it isn't," Dawn whispered dejectedly, thoughts of her mum and dad fighting rushing through her head like a river.  
  
"Just remember," he whispered, lips pressing softly to hers, "Sometimes it is." ~~~~~  
  
Tara strolled out of the baby's room, her hair falling over her shoulders and a tired, but happy, look on her face. It'd been a good day. She'd got the job she'd wanted. Teaching alternate theology at the university, and she'd realized that the class schedule would be flexible enough to accommodate Oz and Willow and allow at least one of them to be with the babies all the time. It wouldn't be the same as taking care of her own, but it was safe. It was love.  
  
The living room was quiet, a fire glowing in the fireplace. Early in the season, but with the air conditioning still on, it wasn't very warm. Willow stretched out on the rug, a glass of what looked to be absinthe in one hand, a book lying open by her side.  
  
Tara smiled.  
  
It was a good day.  
  
"Did.. did it go well today, Willow?" She asked, shyly, walking into the closed off room and standing next to her lover.  
  
"Great," Willow answered smiling, turning her head towards Tara. "The office said they'd work out the hours with me and so one of us can always be home. And. and. I mean. it's cool that I'm working out of a place that treats both humans and demons. That's just. well, it's freaky, but in Sunnydale, it's pretty cool."  
  
Tara knelt down beside her, her long skirts folding under like butterfly wings. "It is," she smiled, brushing hair out of Willow's face. "I mean, I'll miss being with the babies."  
  
"And Oz works mostly nights," Willow commented. "The band and all. And he's away."  
  
"But between us, they'll always know we're here," Tara interrupted. It made Willow smile.  
  
"Yeah," she answered softly. "I just hope there will be time for us."  
  
"There will be," the quiet witch answered, moving her legs out from under her and stretching out next to her love. "We'll just have to make it."  
  
Willow was silent for a long while. A sigh came before the words. "Do you think we're doing the right thing?"  
  
"Going back to work?" Tara asked, spooning against Willow's back.  
  
Another moment of silence. "Yeah. I mean, they're still."  
  
"We have to, Will," Tara answered softly. "I mean, it's not fair to make Oz take care of us all the time."  
  
"We don't make him."  
  
"You don't make me," a voice said, followed by the sound of a closing door. "I want to. I want our. I mean, your, babies to grow up with their family near them."  
  
"Our," Tara corrected, smiling softly and holding out her hand. Oz walked toward them and into the living room, twining his fingers through Tara's. "They're ours."  
  
"Pretty ours, too. Who'd a thunk it?" Willow contributed.  
  
"I would," Oz commented, sitting down by the girl's feet. "What better genes could they ask for?"  
  
"Um, non-witchy, werewolfy, height genes," Willow joked, playfully kicking Oz's knee.  
  
"The power of height," he sighed, taking that foot and stroking it between his hands. "It's over rated."  
  
"I completely agree," Tara responded, smiling. "They can be not so tall and happy."  
  
"I keep waiting for one of them to do some poofy magicy thing," Oz chuckled, taking Tara's foot in the other hand.  
  
Both women sighed. "I caught a floating rattle the other day, but I wasn't sure who the culprit was," Tara responded, giggling. "But they're bound to be hell on wheels once they figure it out."  
  
"We'll teach them," Willow comforted, stroking Tara's arm. "It'll be fun. Like all Harry Potter."  
  
Oz had to laugh. "Well, at least the full moons have gone well for them."  
  
"For now," both women answered, simultaneously giggling. "No fur."  
  
"Not that there's anything wrong with it," Tara amended, thinking of the room they'd set up with bars that came across for Oz's 'Time of the Month'.  
  
"No," Willow added. "Fur equals fun."  
  
Oz tried to laugh at them, but part of him was bothered. He didn't want his babies to have to deal with the trials he had. So far, so good. But it was still always a question. Well, nothing he could do about it now. "Well, ladies, think I'm off to the man cave."  
  
Willow frowned. "Stay a while and cuddle."  
  
Oz raised an eyebrow, looking between the two women, studying one face, then the other. It was very confusing, sometimes, to be the only man in a house with two women. "Looks like a . girl's night?"  
  
Tara smiled. "Nothing we can't fit another into," she commented, scooting back from Willow and gesturing Oz between them. Oz stared at them for a moment, then stretched out, settling between the two women.  
  
Strange as it was, it felt like home. His arm over Will in front of him. His hand on Tara's leg behind him. All of them quiet and peaceful, lying in front of the hearth, just existing. In his mind, Oz lamented the day that this would be over and the girls wouldn't need him anymore.  
  
But now, it was bliss.  
  
~~~~~  
  
River and William were curled on a blanket on the floor like kittens, his arm protectively over her shoulder, his body spooned as close to hers as he could get. At first glance, it made Xander smile. He adored that girl. But then he thought about the boy's parentage. Particularly, his fatherage, and that made him shudder.  
  
Spike. As an in law.  
  
Eww.  
  
Takina had nodded off next to him, her head lolled on his shoulder, the end of the movie playing almost silently on the TV screen. Emma was cuddled between them, her head on Xander's thigh, her legs draped over Takina's lap. Emma had always been the one for contact. And Xander was her uncle in all but blood. Someone she trusted. Loved. Respected.  
  
Xander absently stroked the little girl's hair with one hand, his wife's hand with the other. The last moments of "Lady and the Tramp" played out on screen. Funny how movies that had enraptured them as kids, things he could think of watching with Willow, were still as captivating now. The kids had been enthralled until sleep had gotten the better of them. The Magic of Disney.  
  
"Uncle Xander?" A sleepy voice asked. He started, assuming Emma had been as conked as the rest of them.  
  
"What's up, kiddo? Thought you were out?"  
  
Emma stirred, turning on her back so that she could see his face. "C'I ask you somethin'?"  
  
He smiled, looking at that perfect, beautiful face. She looked so much like Buffy, except with huge blue eyes. The child was nearly flawless. "Of course," he answered. "Only nothing that'll get your dad all fangy at me."  
  
Emma laughed. "Daddy doesn't get fangy much anymore."  
  
"But he can," Xander mused, brushing her hair out behind her. "He can."  
  
The little girl was thoughtful for a moment, staring up at her uncle's quiet brown eyes. "Do you think mummy's unhappy?"  
  
Xander's face contorted in confusion. He hadn't really noticed anything. I mean, she still looked at the Vampire as if the sun rose and set in his eyes. Or his pants. Or something. And she loved the kids like they were her entire world. But Emma was right. There was something.  
  
"I don't think she's unhappy, Em," Xander answered. "Dunno. Did you ask her?"  
  
Emma was quiet again. "No. She's . she seems quieter."  
  
Buffy? Quiet? Xander thought. Now that's something new. "How do you mean?"  
  
The little girl thought for a moment. "She plays with Kali and Loki and she seems far away." There was silence as Emma collected her thoughts. "Like she misses."  
  
"You," Xander answered. "And Will. I know this one. You miss when they're really little. Babies, I mean. And all they need is you. But Emma, that doesn't make her love you any less. She just.. She just thinks about when you were little sometimes."  
  
"I know she loves me," Emma answered, smiling. "She and Daddy love us the best. Me and Will."  
  
Her confidence made Xander smile. Kids did get it sometimes. "Yeah. She and your dad love you more than anything."  
  
"But she wants another baby?" Emma asked, trying to sort it in her head.  
  
Xander snuck a look at his sleeping, beautiful, wife. "Sometimes, we all do."  
  
"Why doesn't she have one?" The little girl asked. "I can help take care of it."  
  
Again, Xander smiled at her sincerity. "I don't think it works like that for them, Em. I mean, they're all super-powery and have a mission-y. Don't think they get to choose what happens next. I used to be jealous of all that power. But now. I dunno."  
  
"Power is hard," Emma sighed. "Makes you different."  
  
Something about the quiet, resigned tone in her voice got to Xander. "But different is good," he commented. "How do you think your mom and me and Willow got together? We were different."  
  
Emma smiled. "I'm okay," she answered. "I just wish mum could have her wish is all."  
  
Xander chuckled. "I'd watch it with the wishing in these parts," he snarked. "Aunt Anya might hear you."  
  
She smiled up at him, her face aglow with radiance and power. "I know. I just want mummy to be happy."  
  
"She is," Xander answered, cuddling the girl closer. "Now, what say we sneak upstairs and make us some popcorn and let them miss out?"  
  
Emma lit up at the secrecy of it all. "I agree," she said quite seriously. "And Uncle Xander?"  
  
"What, little girt?" He answered, easing off the couch and pulling her up with him.  
  
"Thanks for not talking to me like a baby," Emma said, looking up at him with ageless eyes. "Only mum and dad talk to me like a grown up."  
  
That was odd, Xander thought. Maybe she's aware now. Maybe she knows just how old she is. "No problem, kiddo. Let's make that popcorn."  
  
Emma grabbed his hand, letting him tug her off the couch, and followed him out of the family room.  
  
To be contd. 


	3. When You Wish Upon a Star

Hey, there!  
  
Back for more, are you?  
  
Well, here is chapter three; a completely and utterly Spuffy chapter (for those of you who needed a fix). Do tell me what you think.  
  
I hope to have the next chapter out in one week, but, realistically, it might be a bit longer. I will be sure to let you know. Just check at Always!  
  
Hope you like the chapter, and remember, feedback fuels the Muse.  
  
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue  
  
Title: When You Wish Upon a Star (Chapter Three of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
Summary: Buffy finds herself on the back stoop in the middle of the night, trying to figure out how to cope with what she wants out of life. Spike joins her and together they realize that they're more alike than they ever thought.  
  
When You Wish Upon a Star  
  
Buffy stretched, padding through the kitchen and to the back door. How many times had she done this? How many pensive moments had she spent on that porch? Alone. With him. Countless hours of waiting and watching and thinking. It made her feel safe. Clear.  
  
The door opened with a soft click and she let herself out into the night air. It was a little chilly, at least for a girl in her husband's button down and not much else, but it was nice. The sky was a dark, dark blue, the stars twinkling like tiny beacons, the moon just a sliver in the sky.  
  
Slowly, she lowered herself onto the steps, pulling her legs to her chest and watching the world around her. Listening to the night creatures. The ones that didn't like to eat people for a late night snack. The sound of the breeze rustling against the leaves. The silence of the house behind her.  
  
Spike. She and Spike. Oh wow. They. Wow. Even now, he could make her world explode into tiny shards of existence, gather them all up, put them back together, and kiss the seams until she was whole again. The man knew how to make her body sing with joy. For hours on end. But now, in the dead of night, she took a moment of solitude, leaving her sleeping Vampire alone in their room.  
  
Why? Why was this so hard? I mean. how selfish? She had Emma. Will. Two of the cutest, smartest, sweetest, kids she'd ever come in contact with, living in her house. Borne of her body and her blood. But something more called to her. Emptiness inside of her, waiting to be filled. The thought of life, hers and *his* being created. Living, being protected, loved, inside of her, and coming into the light of day. Her body craved it. Her mind, her heart, her soul begged for it. Needing to bring him to life again. Needing to keep him alive.  
  
Buffy's hands fell on her belly and she *felt* the emptiness inside. They were so blessed. So incredibly blessed with power and ability and a love that couldn't die. Two children who would change the world in their own ways. And a life that most people would give their right arm to live.  
  
Still, it called to her.  
  
She looked at the sky, wondering what soul was waiting. What little being was hers that she couldn't bring forth because she was in the control of the Powers. What dwelled in the ether that wanted to come to her. To Spike. To make them whole once again.  
  
Tears fell down her face.  
  
Maybe it was Loki and Kali. Reminding her of what it feels like to be a mother to something so helpless. Remembering Spike asleep on the couch, holding Emma against his bare chest and protecting her from the monsters inside and out. Maybe it was feeling the complete, true love, she felt for Will and Emma and her heart knowing that she had more. More to give. More love. She and Spike had more love than they could ever use.  
  
But it wasn't their decision to make.  
  
Tears fell down her face. ~~~~~~~  
  
His eyes fluttered open, feeling the empty space next to the bed. The small, warm spot that smelled of her and felt of her heat. But she was gone.  
  
Spike sighed, feeling her want from a distance. Feeling that emptiness that consumed her. That love that she wanted to give. To him. To Em. To Will. To another. But he couldn't. He wanted to, but he couldn't give her the one thing that would make her happy right now.  
  
A slow sigh escaped his lips, and his hand meandered through his ruffled curls. Didn't matter whether or not he could change it really. For a Vampire, he was truly blessed. Almost human again, but enough Vampire he could help protect them. Help his mate succeed in her mission. Human enough to father two children that in his *wildest* dreams, he could not have wished for better. Lucky. Damned, sodding, lucky. And not very deserving. So, questioning the Powers on their call to end their line here was not something he felt he had a place to do.  
  
Still, Spike thought, as he stood and gathered up the navy blue sweatpants he'd worn the evening before, he wished he could give her everything in the world that she wanted. Not just the lover, or the husband, or the father, or partner of her dreams. But everything. It was his *job* to make her happy. Give her babies. Make her world something full of only love.  
  
Wasn't his choice to make.  
  
Spike sighed again, pulling the sweatpants low on his hips and making another pass through ruffled hair with his strong hand. Couldn't leave her alone. Couldn't let her drown in it. Had to make her see. For her. For the kids they *had* brought into the world. For him.  
  
Had to make her happy.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The night was clear and warm as he opened the kitchen door out onto the porch. This was the place they had both always run for safety. Always gone to suss it all out. The strange and wonderful dichotomy of their existence. The juxtaposition of dark and light, good and evil, superhero and average people. People who loved and lost and still loved more.  
  
She sat on the porch step, curled in a tight ball, her body, not moving, her eyes trained on the sky. The stars. He remembered her telling him once, after he nearly lost her to the demon who sent her to the In Between, that the stars had sung to her. Maybe, somewhere, they still did. He heard their voices as well. Singing lullabies and cacophony with equal zeal.  
  
"So, what's a bird like you doing sitting on the stoop in her unmentionables?" Spike asked as he walked across the deck barefoot until he was almost right behind her.  
  
Buffy's head spun, not hearing him come out. Her face was stained with the salty lines of tears; a look that very nearly broke his heart every time he saw it. But she managed a small smile, holding out her hand and guiding him down next to him.  
  
Good, he thought, not going to shut me out this time. Maybe we are growing up.  
  
She sat in silence for a moment before she reached to her cheeks with the back of her hand and wiped them, his gentle hands following their trail. "They're not my unmentionables anyways." she whispered, mustering the same small smile.  
  
"Right," Spike chided. "First you buy me all that rot, then you go about wearing it."  
  
She chuckled, sniffing the collar of the shirt she was wearing. "Smells like you."  
  
"Turning into a Vampire now, Love?" He chided. She'd always thought the scenting business was 'creepy'. Funny to hear her relying on the same instincts.  
  
"Might as well," she sighed, winding her fingers through his. "Married one."  
  
"Only sometimes, Pet," Spike responded, letting a half hearted growl from his throat. She chuckled again. "Mind telling me what brings you to your thinking corner this night?"  
  
Again, she sighed, the smile fading and her hand loosening in his. Buffy's eyes wandered back to the sky, but her lips stayed tightly pursed, as if he couldn't pry it out of her with a crowbar. "Don't even want to begin to ask this, Pet, but something you didn't like in. round one?" Spike asked, training his eyes to his knees and remembering the sweet, but rather kinky first half of the evening they'd had. She'd seemed willing enough, and he was nothing but able to expand her repertoire. But when it came right down to it, she was little more than an all American cheerleader who probably never dreamed of some of the things he could teach her. Well, she was always more than that to him. Just. he didn't always know if she was willing or just trying to make him happy.  
  
He swallowed hard in the silence that ensued, trying desperately not to look at her face and know he'd upset her. But curiosity got the better of him and he turned toward her to find her slack jawed and staring at him with wide, curious eyes.  
  
"What, then?" Spike asked defensively.  
  
She stuttered once. Twice. Then got her lips to form words. "H.how can you even ask me that?"  
  
Spike turned away again. "Dunno, Pet. Worry, is all. Gotta keep you happy."  
  
He heard the chuckle that wasn't. That sharp, uneven intake of breath, and the steady release over her pretty coral lips. "Uh, Spike."  
  
Again, he looked at her, eyes desperate to see that he was wrong. That he wasn't disappointing her, "Yeah?"  
  
"Worlds of good. Mind blowing, leg shaking, toe curling gallons of fun and yummy researchness," she commented, stroking his thigh.  
  
"Then why the silence?" Spike asked, hoping she wasn't trying to burst his ever fragile ego.  
  
Buffy chuckled again. "Cause I can't believe you even asked me that! Weren't the ear piercing screams of joy a good sign in the 'You are a Sex God' direction?"  
  
Feeling a bit puffed up again, Spike smiled at her. "Just wanted to make sure I could still ring all your bells and blow all your whistles, Pet."  
  
"Rung. Blown." She blushed, realizing how that sounded. "Or maybe you rung and I blew?" A mischievous grin broke on his face as she dug the hole deeper. "Oh, whatever. Sex God. Wobbly legs. Need you. All good jiggly on the insides," Buffy finally broke down and sighed.  
  
"Always the wordsmith, Love," Spike commented, still smiling at his mastery and her blatant appreciation. "Not so bad in the bells and whistles yourself. After a little retraining from the train wreck of your past."  
  
Buffy rolled her eyes. "It wasn't a train wreck," she defended.  
  
"First one went Three Faces of Eve on you right after he deflowered you, second blatantly used you, for which I still think he should be bludgeoned to death with a large flat object, third's idea of different and exciting was ribbed vs.."  
  
"Enough!" Buffy snapped, laughing at her other half. "Okay. Retraining was good."  
  
"Just good?" He asked, nuzzling her cheek.  
  
Her body shuddered in anticipation, just at the gentlest contact. "More than good. It's gggreeaaattt!"  
  
Spike's eyes rolled. "Been around the tot's breakfast cereal too much, Pet."  
  
Again, the clear, sweet, sound of her laugh filled the air and then slowly, became silent. He could almost see the thoughts that had brought her out to their spot return to her mind one by devious one. "Care to tell me what's really on your mind, Love?'  
  
Buffy shook her head slightly. "Nothing much."  
  
"What brings you out here in the middle of the night then?" Spike remarked, inching closer to her so that his hip was flush to hers. She always relaxed when they touched.  
  
"Needed to think," she answered quietly, her eyes looking down now at the bottom step. "Needed to talk."  
  
"Could've talked to me, Pet. You can always talk to me," Spike purred, his hand gently stroking her back.  
  
She smiled slightly. "You were asleep."  
  
Spike's chest puffed out a little. "My manly duty, Love. Wouldn't be right if the man didn't fall into a deep, satisfied slumber after mind blowing sex."  
  
Again, Buffy giggled. "Right. So, I decided to come out here and. think."  
  
"Bout?"  
  
"Stuff."  
  
"Care to share?"  
  
"Do I have to?"  
  
"Can rattle about in that cranium of yours until I dig it out if you don't want to tell me. Up to you."  
  
Buffy sighed, knowing he already knew, but wasn't going to let her off that easy. "Babies."  
  
Spike's turn to sigh. "All right. Wee ones it is. Care to expound?"  
  
Buffy fidgeted, drawing into herself both physically and mentally. Her mind throwing up protective walls. Her knees drawing closer to her chest. Losing contact with him. "Nothing."  
  
"Not going to let you off that easy, Pet," Spike demanded softly, taking her tightly clasped hands and loosening them, her knees dropping, her feet stretching back to the step. He took one of those soft, small hands in his, caressing the back of it with his thumb. "Nothing you can't say to me."  
  
Her eyes closed. "But I feel stupid. Ungrateful."  
  
"Well, I can assure you, you're neither," Spike comforted. "Smart little bint, and I know you thank your lucky stars every day that you're still here. With me. With us."  
  
Buffy's eyes flickered open, her head turning towards him, her mind filling with thoughts of just how lucky she was to be sitting next to *this* man, after all that they'd been through. How lucky she was to have Emma. William. Even Pony, who spent much of his time sleeping with the kids in his more advanced age. But it didn't change that empty feeling. "I am lucky."  
  
"We both are, Pet," Spike answered, his blue eyes melting hers. "Doesn't change the fact that it's human nature to want."  
  
She chuckled. "That coming from a Vampire."  
  
"Which, as you well know, is just a human with a nasty skin condition who is breathing challenged and has unending stamina, of which, I apparently do not. Cept for maybe the last bit," Spike huffed.  
  
"Definitely the last bit," Buffy responded, smiling softly. She was quiet, a long moment, drinking in his beautiful face. Studying the fine lines that were starting to appear as he aged for the first time in over a century. The wisdom that began to etch into that beautiful face, making it even sexier. More kind. More wonderful. She sighed. "I just.. I know that I'm lucky, and I know that I shouldn't. I just.Spike."  
  
"You want another baby," he finished for her. "Another one to protect. To love."  
  
She nodded, the tears beginning to fall again. "I want to feel it. I want to feel part of you growing inside of me again. And I want to know that we get to live a little longer in them. Love some more. That they can't ever take that away from us. They are us, Spike. Emma. Will. They're all that's best about you and me and how can that be a bad thing to want more?"  
  
He closed his eyes, heart breaking at the sound of the quiver in her voice, and the silvery rivers on her face. Slowly, he pulled her close until she was sitting in his lap, her legs thrown over his thighs, her head buried against his strong, bare chest. He could feel the wet warmth of her tears against his skin. Gently, he pressed a kiss to the crown of her head. "S'not love. Not a bad thing."  
  
"Then why?" Buffy asked, her voice small and weak. "I mean, we can protect them. Better than anyone else. And Spike. We have so much love. Plenty more."  
  
"Endless, Love," Spike whispered, burying his face in her soft, silky hair.  
  
"Then why?" She whispered again. "Why won't they let us?"  
  
He was silent for a long moment. "Dunno, Pet. I know I feel like I let you down. Man should be able to give his wife children." His voice was quiet. Almost as unsteady as hers.  
  
Slowly, Buffy lifted her head, looking up into his deep, blue eyes. In that instant, she realized that this was something he wanted as badly as her. That he understood. Really, truly, knew. The emptiness, despite the fullness of their lives. That ache to love more. To feel the joy of knowing that they will always survive through them. Even on the day that they faded into ether, their love would always live on in them.  
  
And he blamed himself that it couldn't happen.  
  
His eyes were lost.  
  
Buffy sat up, taking his cheeks in her palms. "Spike," she whispered, brushing her lips to his. "It's not you. It's not me. It's . destiny. You know that."  
  
His head lowered to her shoulder, kissing the soft skin at her open collar. "Just want to give you everything, Love. And I want to hold. I remember holding them."  
  
Buffy lifted his head even to hers, pressing her forehead against his. "So, I'm not alone?"  
  
"You're not," he answered quietly. "Never alone."  
  
She kissed his lips softly. "You know I love you."  
  
"I do," he answered, brushing stray hairs from her face. "Can only think that They know as well," Spike continued, his eyes rolling skyward.  
  
Her eyes followed. "They can see," Buffy answered. "They'll do what's meant to happen, I guess."  
  
Spike sighed. "Just want you to be happy, Pet. Want you to never regret. this. Me."  
  
"I can't," she said, smiling. "I won't. You've given me everything. Two beautiful babies. A life that I wasn't supposed to have. Happiness every time you're near me."  
  
Spike studied her a moment, his eyes capturing hers. "Tell me you're not disappointed that I cannot. that."  
  
"Spike," Buffy whispered, kissing his cheeks. "I can't either. Only they can decide. Which is a world of suckiness sometimes, but it just is. All we can do is hope. But no, I don't blame it on you. And I don't blame it on me. It's not up to us."  
  
Spike nodded, feeling all the love he had for her well into his heart until he felt like it would explode. How he deserved this, deserved her, completely escaped him. "Well, for what it's worth, I'll hope along with you, Pet."  
  
Buffy smiled, nuzzling his nose with hers. "There are some other things we can do to help things along," she whispered deviously, nipping at his lower lip.  
  
A sly smile broke across his face. "What do you have in mind, Pet?"  
  
"Umm," she hummed, her hands tracing long, slow lines down his back. "Think you mentioned something about round two?"  
  
Spike pulled her in for a long, slow kiss, feeling the warm softness of her tongue searching his mouth. Dancing with his, her body pressing closer, her heat. "Think we can manage that, Love," Spike finally commented as she came up for air. He scooped her up, carrying her back up the steps. "Only you have to tell me if things get a little too."  
  
Buffy smiled. "I think I want to try that swing thing again."  
  
The grin on Spike's face became downright wicked. "Now, *that's* my girl," he praised, kicking open the kitchen door.  
  
To be contd. 


	4. Coming Home

Good evening, All,  
  
Well, concussion and Percoset and all, I managed to eek out a chapter. Thanks to a wonderful team of betas, I'm bringing it to you, gentle reader, just in the nick of time.  
  
For you Spuffy diehards, of which I am admittedly one, this has some yummy lovin' and a little tenderness. I hope it was worth the wait.  
  
Provided I decide to avoid tripping over my own appendages and striking large porcelain objects with my head in the next week, I hope to have the next chapter out a week from today.  
  
Thanks for your patience, and, as always, let me know what you think!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue  
  
~~~~~  
  
Title: Coming Home (Chapter Four of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13 (some insinuated adult scenes, but no worse than on the show:))  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
Summary: Emma sneaks out of her uncle's care and makes a wish to her other family. Buffy and Spike, unaware of their daughter's journey, reap the benefits.  
  
Coming Home  
  
She waited until the lights were out in the hall. River and Will were long since asleep tucked between Xander and Takina in the master bedroom. There was no more shuffling. No more rumble of pipes. Not even a mouse.  
  
Emma sat up quietly, pulling the blankets on the small bed to her ankles. She was a big girl now and got to sleep in the guest room sometimes. Mostly, she liked it. But sometimes, she wanted to be the one curled up in the big bed. An involuntary sigh escaped her lips. Growing up.  
  
The little girl swung her legs over the side of the bed, her flannel nightgown almost brushing her ankles as she hit the floor in utter silence. She had told Uncle Xander that she liked the breeze and asked him to keep the window open for her. He'd always been a little gullible, she thought, as she crept towards the opening. She made her way over the frame and out onto the flat part of the roof beneath the guest room window.  
  
At first, she thought the sound of a shingle loosening under her feet was about as loud as an atomic blast as she climbed the pitch to the highest point. But there wasn't a movement in the house below. Either they slept like daddy, she thought, or it wasn't really all that loud.  
  
Finally, the summit. She pulled herself carefully up to the apex of the roof, pressed her back against the chimney for balance and looked up at the sky. The moon was the Maiden. A perfect crescent, shining in the sky. Beckoning to her. Welcoming her. Emma closed her eyes and memories she didn't remember having flashed through her mind. Horses. Long dresses. Daggers and swords. Fighting. Always fighting. But when your eternal mission is Peace, there must be conflict everywhere you go.  
  
"Take me home," she whispered to the sky, her eyes squeezed shut and her hands reaching up toward the Heavens like a toddler waiting to be picked up. "Home," she repeated. ~~~~~  
  
"You're so beautiful," he whispered, letting his fingers slip inside hers. She smiled up at him, her eyes shining in the pale light of the moon.  
  
"Bet you say that to all the girls," Buffy answered, her hand reaching up to touch his handsome face.  
  
"Only my girls," Spike answered, lowering to plant a soft kiss on her nose. "And one or two down at the Bronze. Right crop of stunning coeds this year, Pet," he snarked, cringing even before the gentle palm on his cheek whipped away and cracked back at him. But her giggles underneath him told him she knew it wasn't true. His chuckle confirmed it.  
  
"No one as beautiful as you," he whispered again, his lips pressing softly to hers, tasting the sugared nectar of her mouth. Drinking her in. Feeling her nude body captured underneath of him, making his body hot again, wanting more. Always wanting more of her.  
  
"I love you," Buffy said quietly as their lips parted. "No matter what happens, I'm always proud of you. Always glad for you."  
  
His heart nearly burst out of his chest as the long forgotten Victorian poet inside of him jumped for joy. This was the moment. This was what he lived for. Those tiny fragments of time when everything is perfect. When Emma first fell asleep in his arms. When William wrapped his little arms around his father's neck and pressed their cheeks together.  
  
And when Buffy looked at him like that. When she said she loved him. She needed him. She was *proud* of him.  
  
"Mind if we skip another go on that contraption, Love?" Spike asked, nodding towards a black nylon swing that was hanging from a pull up bar against the wall.  
  
She quirked her eyebrows and pouted. "No more swing? No . no more yummy research?"  
  
Again, his lips met hers and he tensed his body against her hot skin. "Always more, Pet. Much as you want. Just... I want.I."  
  
A small smile broke across her face. Those occasional moments of shyness in her love were nearly as endearing as his vast physical abilities and near perfect fathering skills. His endless blue gaze stared down at her, wanting her to understand. Wanting her to say it. Say it, Buffy.  
  
"Make love to me, William," she whispered, arching underneath him, kissing his lips as softly as butterfly wings. "Make love to me." ~~~~~  
  
When she opened her eyes, all she could see was a beautiful misty white. Looking closer, she could see all of the colours imaginable swirling in that mist. Reflecting from one spot to another. A beautiful spectrum of time and place and light.  
  
Home.  
  
Emma smiled as she walked the lighted stepping stones along the familiar path. The world was smaller now. No, she thought, stretching her arms out in front of her, she was larger. The Peacemaker in her true form. Lithe, young woman, strong and mighty and beautiful. The way she was meant to be.  
  
The door lie ahead of her and she ran at it like her Earth-self might have. Like an over-enthusiastic child greeting her daddy at the door. She loved her life below. But it was just this one life. This one duty. *This* is the place she would come back to. This is the place that, once her parents down below had finished their missions, she would bring them back to. The place among the Gods. The Kings and the Queens. And they would take their rightful thrones.  
  
One day. When they were done.  
  
Emma pushed the door open gently, and then genuflected before even looking ahead. Her Mistress sometimes stood on ceremony. But not this time. Not this visit.  
  
"Peac. Emma," the Queen announced, delighted to see her daughter. "Come to me, child. Don't waste your time on such gestures."  
  
Slowly, Emma looked up to see the beauty of the Queen of the Sky. The radiant, perfect woman. Long and lean, golden locks cascading down her shoulders. Huge, reflecting eyes filled with compassion and love. Love of the World. Love of the Universe. Love of her emissary. Emma smiled. She had missed this place.  
  
"Your highness," Emma answered, barely concealing a smile as she stood and stepped carefully towards the throne. The Queen was standing now, a smile as bright as the sun across her pale, perfect skin.  
  
She was.effulgent.  
  
"What brings you here, my sweet?" The Queen asked, taking Emma's hands and pulling the girl into an embrace that made her feel almost as safe as her father's down below. A sweet, kind, loving feeling. Like coming home again.  
  
Emma smiled again and took a step back. "It is not for me, My Lady. Nor is it for my Mission."  
  
The Queen quirked an eyebrow and her smile faded to concern. "Is everything all right with your Earth family? Is there something you need from us?"  
  
Just as she said the word 'us', her handsome King walked through the mist behind the throne and glided up next to his mate, planting a kiss on her cheek and wrapping one strong arm around her. He leaned forward, kissing Emma's nose and touching her hair. "As beautiful as always," he whispered to her in his best paternal tone, smiling. "Nearly as beautiful as my Queen."  
  
Emma blushed. "Never, my Lord."  
  
"We created your physical form," the Queen corrected, smiling again. "So, suffice it to say that we think we did quite well."  
  
Emma's blushed deepened. "Thank you," she answered, nodding politely.  
  
"Now about your visit," The Queen said, backing towards the throne, Emma's hands still in hers. "Tell me why you came back so suddenly. If it is not the Mission and not your family below."  
  
The King and Queen sat in their golden thrones and Emma slid gracefully onto a pale blue velvet pillow at their feet, pulling what was once her little girl flannel nightgown, and was now a flowing dress of white silk, under her legs. "It is," Emma stuttered. "Well, it's . it's complicated, my Lady."  
  
The King raised an eyebrow. "I've never known you to be at a loss for words, Emma. We will not judge you. Say it."  
  
Emma looked from Queen to King and back again. "It is not part of the Mission. Not part of our Destiny."  
  
"Oh?" The King asked, an amused lilt in his voice. "Sounds interesting enough."  
  
"Earthly desire?" The Queen answered, her voice carefully neutral.  
  
Emma nodded slightly. "Yes, My Lady."  
  
The King sighed. "We created a utopia for them down there. Gave them everything they needed to live like kings. But yet they are always wanting.."  
  
"It's not *like* that," Emma pleaded. "I mean, they never asked."  
  
"You come voicing their wants for them?" The Queen answered, a little annoyed. The flushed, desperate look on her child's face made her soften. "What is it that they want, my sweet?"  
  
"They never said anything," Emma repeated, looking down at her knees. "But I know they want it. And for what they do, what they will do, for Humanity, it seems a small price to pay."  
  
"Well," the King said, his tone more jovial now. "Out with it."  
  
Emma looked up, dewy eyes staring at her Mistress and Master. "Lady. Lord. They would like another child."  
  
The Queen laughed at first, then slowly chuckled her way back to a more serious tone. "And here you had me thinking that this was some crisis of faith in the One. Some cosmic confluence that would interrupt their duty. Yours. But another child? For Stars sake, why? We gave them you. We even gave them back William. "  
  
Emma sighed, looking down again. "Because they miss us when we were smaller. Mum, I mean the Slayer. you can feel her emptiness. That feeling like your body, your soul, is missing a piece. And Spike. he won't admit it, but he wants that too. He loves us. He loves us so much, my Lady. But they have more to give."  
  
The Queen sighed. The King chuckled, watching the Queen's resolve break for her favourite emissary. Her child, of sorts. "Are they good parents, Emma? Not do they feed and clothe you and teach you and protect you, but..."  
  
"They love us. All the time, we know they love us. Always. " Emma smiled to herself as her father's words ran through her mind. 'Everyday', she could hear him say. To her. To her mum. To Will.  
  
Another dramatic sigh escaped the Queen's pouty lips. "Do they have a choice of whom?"  
  
Emma thought for a moment. "I'm not sure. I mean, I know the Slayer misses her mum. But I mean. I didn't ask."  
  
"You've got time," the King answered. He looked over at his Queen. "They are equipped to take care of more."  
  
"I don't remember asking you for your opinion," the Queen snapped, and then grinned. It was fun exercising her power when she could. The King grinned back at her, loving that powerful streak in his chosen partner. The Queen then looked down at Emma. "Do *you* want this? Will this interrupt your Duty?"  
  
Emma shook her head vehemently. "No, My Lady. They didn't love me any less when Will came. They didn't protect me less. If anything, it was more."  
  
One last long sigh from the Queen. "Very well." Her hand raised in the air. "But don't come back in a few years asking for another. We don't need an army. " She paused, thinking. "Well, we do. But we also need the One in fighting form. We have time yet before then. Time."  
  
"Yes, My Lady." Emma answered smiling.  
  
"Now, come tell us about your life," the King said, standing, helping his Queen and Emma to her feet. "I always love the crude tales of Humanity."  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Her eyes were caught in his. Blue mixing with green as they slowly moved. Danced. It was always a dance. It started as a heavy metal mosh pit and was now the most elegant waltz the world had ever seen.  
  
"Love," Spike whispered, his eyes closing as he felt his body become one with hers in every way. Mind, spirit, heart, soul, body. Felt her around him, beneath him. One. One.  
  
"William," she whispered back, sliding her eyes closed as well, letting their minds mingle as their bodies moved on their own. "I love you, always."  
  
"Everyday, Pet," he whispered, finding her mouth instinctively with his.  
  
It was warm. Different. Like a white light wrapped around them and it was as white as day. Their minds wove through their spirits and their hearts burst with joy. Everything about them became fast and slow, light and heavy and perfect and perfect and perfect.  
  
They'd never felt it before. Maybe because they'd never. they'd never paid attention. But both of them did this time. Their eyes shot open as their bodies exploded and their hearts bled warmth into each other. That second when life occurs. That tingle. That blessing. That one moment in time when it all comes together and the World is suddenly only what is happening inside of you.  
  
She stared at him in awe and wonder, feeling it. That void being erased. That empty spot in their lives suddenly becoming full again. His head tilted, wondering if she knew as well. A fragile, tentative smile broke on her face and his arms relaxed, settling down onto her, resting his head against her chest.  
  
Buffy stroked his hair, feeling whole, content, amazed. Her heart thudded under his ear like a drum. Spike put his hand over it, just to feel the rhythm of its race.  
  
It took a long time for either of them to speak.  
  
"Did you feel...?" Buffy stuttered.  
  
Spike slid down her body, resting his head on her flat stomach. "I did, Pet."  
  
"Do you think.?" She asked, her voice wavering between fear and excitement.  
  
Slowly, he looked up at her, tousled hair and sparkling blue eyes. "No, Pet," he answered quietly.  
  
Her face dropped, her heart slowing for a moment. Watching the disappointment wrap around her like a blanket, he decided this wasn't the best time to play word games. He crawled up the length of her body and stretched out next to her, pulling her small, nude body into his arms. "I know."  
  
Suddenly, her face brightened. "You know? What, could you hear something?"  
  
He shook his head. "Too early for that, really. But I know all the same."  
  
Buffy thought about that for a moment, remembering that. indescribable feeling. "Yeah," she whispered, nuzzling his cheek softly. "I know."  
  
To be contd. 


	5. New Soul

Hello, Everyone!  
  
Wow. Two weeks in a row. I must be getting better!  
  
Next chapter out next Tuesday, I hope!  
  
Here is chapter five of Meant to Be. A little bit of sappy, a little bit of sweet, and a shot of our old friends Luke and Drac.  
  
Enjoy! Please give me feedback! I definitely want to know what you think!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*, Nimue  
  
Title: New Soul (Chapter Five of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
Summary: Spike muses on life with his family. The Queen and King of the Sky discuss the new soul to be sent to the One. Meanwhile, the Evil Ones discover what is going on up above and just might catch a break from the Powers that Be. Emma and Will shock their father with news of their own.  
  
New Soul  
  
Spike woke up slowly. The kids weren't back yet and the house was silent, even to his sensitive ears. It was peaceful. Calm. Beautiful.  
  
The morning sun spilled in the window, lighting her in pale yellow and rose, like a goddess. She slept soundly, her body curled against his and her head resting on his shoulder.  
  
She was a goddess. A Chosen One. A Saviour. But to him, she was more. More than any prophesy or any lifetime or any one *thing*. She was all, and his and love and life and perfection. Even when her hair was a mess and she was covered in demon goo. She was his One True Love.  
  
Slowly, he rolled on his side to look at her. Sweet, soft smile on her pouty lips. His hands traced the contours of her body. Remembering it. Feeling the softness of the skin of her shoulders, her arms. How could something so small and soft be so strong and powerful? Didn't matter, he thought, smiling himself. She was. She was his and she was wonderful.  
  
His gentle touches slid down her chest. Her ribs. Resting on her stomach. She sighed gently and scooted in closer to him, kissing his chest in her sleep. Something inside of him that he hadn't realized was empty, filled with joy. He had given her what she wanted, despite the odds. Spike knew that, even if there was no way to know. He'd been given what *he* wanted as well. Her happiness. Another child. Theirs. A piece of him mingling with a piece of her to create a being that would be all of them. And would carry on their legacy, their great love, even when the One was no more.  
  
The thought was overwhelming. Even now. Even having been through it twice already. It was still utterly amazing to him that she would have him, never mind love him, or want to bear his children. The Victorian poet, that was now his son, rose inside of him, nearly weeping at the perfection of it all. The way his life had gone from beast to beauty.  
  
Nothing could destroy this. Nothing.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
The Queen propped her head against the enormous, white pillows. Well, to her they were pillows, although anyone else might have seen clouds.  
  
Her King lay next to her, softly touching her golden skin. Adoring her every inch as she lay on silken sheets in the early morning sun. Even as Queen of the Sky, goddess of the Heavens, she had no idea how beautiful she was. No idea how perfect. It seemed that it was not only the mortal world that could sometimes ignore that which was part of them. Even the gods were sometimes oblivious.  
  
"What is on your mind, my Queen?" The king asked, shifting until they lay face to face on the pillows.  
  
She smiled, placing her palm against his cheek. "The seed has been sown for the next child of the One," she began, watching his blue eyes glisten in the sunlight. "I am just wondering if I did the right thing."  
  
"You are a goddess, my love. There is no wrong. There is only your word," he answered, trying to brush the worry from her face with gentle hands.  
  
"I do not always feel as confident as you, dearest. I just worry that there is something.." She stopped, biting her lip as she thought. "Something that I am missing."  
  
The King sighed, pressing his lips to her forehead. "My sweet, even if there is, I've no doubt that between our child and the One, they can overcome whatever harm that may come. We have waited for thousands of years for the time to be right, for the Slayer and Vampire to unite and for Peace to be born. Their destinies will be challenged, but I trust them to overcome. Do not fret, my love."  
  
The Queen smiled, returning the kiss to her mate. "You were a worthy choice in companion," she said softly. "A good King. A perfect love."  
  
"Only to you, my Queen. To all else, I am half of a god. A bastard mortal," he answered, looking away.  
  
Slowly, the Queen raised his chin with her hand. "Do not ever say that in my presence. You are a god. My choice in ruler of the sky at my side. It matters not that you were born of goddess and man. You've earned your place at my side."  
  
The King sighed. "But my mortal father."  
  
"Is a wonderful man and one of our best emissaries. He's been granted immortality for his service to the court. Never begrudge him," the Queen snapped, pulling him closer to her even in her anger. The King relented, falling against her bosom and breathing deeply as she stroked his hair. "Now," the Queen began again. "On to better subjects. Who do you think we should send to the One as their newest soul?"  
  
The King traced circles on his Queen's golden skin and thought. "We could allow the Fates to choose this time."  
  
The Queen chuckled in response. "Cirrus, those women have enough control over the One as it stands. Let us at least choose one for them!"  
  
He laughed at her indignation. "All right then, what are you thinking?"  
  
Silence fell as she thought. "There are so many that they have lost and we have the power to return. But I think there is only one whose absence pierces both of their hearts."  
  
"And who is that, my love?" The King asked as he kissed her soft cheek.  
  
"Her mother."  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
The sound of the door swinging open and slamming shut awoke him from his near slumber. The man wrapping him in sheets of pale green kept upon his task as if nothing had happened. As if there was never the boom of the heavy red door, never the click of heels on the tile followed by the heavy tap of men's shoes. Never the sudden horrid, dry cough piercing the incensed air.  
  
"Lucifer?" The deep, eternally angry, voice boomed.  
  
Luke turned his head from the table on which he was stretched and saw Draconius, his mate in her more vixen-ish, less hag-ish form, standing next to him. Luke dropped his head back onto the table and grunted.  
  
"Can't this wait? You're interrupting my kelp wrap!" The Hell God whined as the burly man continued his work uninterrupted.  
  
"No," Draconius answered simply. "It cannot."  
  
"We've got news," Lenora purred, walking closer to the naked form of the man on the table and inspecting him. "Not bad," she whispered, her face inches from his ear.  
  
Luke squirmed, trying to ignore the purr, the soft, feminine scent, but his body betrayed him and the muscled man stepped away. "Oh, get out, Hans. We can finish later."  
  
Hans nodded mutely and plodded out of the room as Draconius pulled up a chair and Lenora prowled in circles around the table.  
  
"So, what's so important that you have to scare away the help?" Luke whined, turning on to his stomach and facing Draconius.  
  
"I think it was you, Kitten, who scared away the help," Lenora sighed, her finger grazing his shoulder. She brought the finger to her lips sensuously. "Mmm, salty."  
  
"Oh, enough, woman," Draconius snapped. "Just because the triple breasted whore of Moravia kissed me doesn't mean you have to lose all sense of decorum."  
  
Lenora shot him an evil look and paced back to the wall, arms crossed defensively over her chest. "If you weren't such a tease," she sighed, the anger barely hidden.  
  
"As much as I love the little Hell hate-fest, can you please get on with it before I start to itch," Luke complained.  
  
"Yes, yes," Draconius answered, pulling a cigar from his pocket and lighting it from a flame arising out of the tip of his finger. A neat trick he'd learned in his years at La Maison Rouge. "Lenora sensed that the One has changed."  
  
"Changed?" Luke asked, beginning to scratch his leg. "How? And how is that anywhere *near* as important as good skin?"  
  
"She is pregnant," Lenora answered, prowling back into Luke's field of vision.  
  
"Well, ain't she just the kitten factory?" The Hell god snarked, his fingers working harder against the back of his thigh as the seaweed tightened on his skin. "So, what does that have to do with the price of sex in the red light district?"  
  
Draconius smiled. "Well, a few things. Obviously, the One is easier to physically overcome once the Slayer becomes heavy with child."  
  
"Yeah, well, hasn't seemed to stop her from sending me business," Luke answered, annoyed. "Just makes that little Vampire of hers more protective and all agitated when anyone comes near her. Besides, she outsmarted me when she was about to burst."  
  
"A rabid monkey with one brain cell could outsmart you," Draconius commented, taking a draw from his cigar. "But there is more."  
  
"If you're done insulting your host, I might listen," Luke answered, his hand now furiously scraping at his bottom. "But hurry up before I have to have plastic surgery to fix the scabs on my legs."  
  
"Fine, fine," the Old One brooded. "Lenora sent a little spell up to the Powers that Be. At least to the Powers that Be helping the One."  
  
"Ah, the Sky Queen," Luke mused. "Now *there's* a hottie. Was she naked?"  
  
"No," Lenora answered. "But she was discussing the soul with which to imbue the One's newest addition."  
  
"Not going to let the old Fates handle it?" Luke asked.  
  
Draconius sighed heavily. Having a conversation with Lucifer, he thought, was closely akin to teaching arithmetic to a wall. "No," he replied. "If you *think* about it, my dear host, the Queen needs to be in control of all who are near to the Peacemaker. She would never allow the randomness of the Fates to govern such a decision."  
  
"Then who?" Luke asked. "And why does it matter?"  
  
"The mother," Lenora replied, sitting on the arm of Draconius's chair, but careful not to touch him.  
  
Lucifer furrowed his brow. "What mother? I mean, I thought that the Mother that was with them at the First was already there and popping out kittens of her own with the Father?"  
  
Another long sigh from the Old One. "No, Lucifer. *Her* mother. Joyce? The *Pawn*?"  
  
"Oh, the chick we sent after them a few years back?" Luke questioned as a light bulb went off in his head. "Wow, that's weird."  
  
"And quite fortuitous," Draconius added, smiling.  
  
"For-who?" Luke whined, now bleeding from clawing at the drying seaweed and flopping around on the table like a grounded fish.  
  
"Lucky," Lenora answered. "As we had her in our control in the past, marked her, even for a time, I think I know a way to have her spirit marked again and have her born to the One while under our control."  
  
"Ooh!" Luke cried excitedly. "Like Hell Spawn?"  
  
"Not quite," Draconius said, his voice barely hiding the agitation. "She will be brought unto them like any other human child. Gaining their trust and love. And when the time is right, and they think they have nothing to fear, we activate the child and destroy the One from within. Then go after the Peacemaker."  
  
"That's a little. devious," the wrapped creature on the table snarled, a smile breaking at the end. "Think we got the stuff to do it?"  
  
Draconius nodded slowly. "I think we may just have caught a lucky break courtesy of the Goddess herself."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Spike was busy at the stove making pancakes when the front door burst open and the thunder of feet pounded through the living room and into the kitchen. He stepped away from the stove so that the inevitable tackle wouldn't end up setting any of them ablaze.  
  
Before he could finish the thought, Emma peeled around the corner, Will at her heels, and launched into the air, catching her dad around the waist with her legs as Will grabbed onto his leg.  
  
"Think they missed you," Takina said, smiling from the kitchen doorway.  
  
Spike kissed Emma's forehead. "Missed the Mites as well," he answered, ruffling Will's hair. "Have a good night?"  
  
"They were great," Takina answered.  
  
"We watch'd Lazy and the Twamp," Will announced, looking up with huge blue eyes.  
  
"Pups eating pasta," Spike commented, nodding sagely. "Always a hit."  
  
"And they kkkkiiiissssseeeedddd," Emma drew out. "Like you and mommy do."  
  
"Us?" Spike joked, setting the little girl down on the floor. "Never."  
  
"You tiss all de time," Will commented making a puckery face. Emma squinched her nose.  
  
"Just. your mum likes it, is all," Spike answered slyly. His eyes rose to Takina's. "Stay for breakfast?"  
  
"Nope, got my own cooking man at home," she answered cheerfully. "But soon."  
  
"Right then. Tell the git I said. bugger off," Spike commented, a smile on his face as he lifted Will into a chair and Emma sat down across from him.  
  
"I'll be sure to do that," Takina laughed, backing out of the doorway. "Tell Buffy hi."  
  
"Right," Spike answered, tossing a little wave towards the doctor as he flipped pancakes from the griddle to the kids' plates, a distance of at least five feet, without missing one, to the great pleasure of his progeny.  
  
"Where's mummy?" Will asked, digging into his pancake with chubby palms holding the fork like a dagger.  
  
"Asleep, still," Spike answered, watching the smug smile on Emma's face. She knew something, little blighter, but she wasn't going to fess up. Spike could read it in her angelic face. "What's with you, Mite?"  
  
"Nothin'," her lyrical voice answered as she shoved more pancake into her pretty little mouth.  
  
"Can't lie to me," he laughed, poking her in the side and making her giggle.  
  
"Not lying," Emma answered, still smiling.  
  
"Then what, Mite? What's the grin all about, then?" Spike asked, making a plate piled high with pancakes for Buffy as he worked through his own and watched the two kids scarf down food as if they'd been tied to a stake in the desert for a year with nothing to eat or drink.  
  
"I can't tell you," Emma sang, thinking of her visit to her first home the night before."  
  
Spike quirked an eyebrow and looked at Will. The little boy shrugged and went back to spearing his pancakes. There was something. Emma was hiding something. That worried him.  
  
Emma felt her father's mood shift from joy to concern and decided that maybe she should come clean. After all, she'd made a special trip for them, why destroy her own work? "It's okay, Daddy."  
  
Spike smiled, smoothing her beautiful blonde hair down her back. "What is, Mite?"  
  
"We be happy with mummy's new baby," Will said nonchalantly, shoveling pancakes into his mouth. Both Spike and Emma's heads spun so fast that they both almost fell off their chairs  
  
"What?" Father and daughter said in unison.  
  
Will shrugged again. "Mummy's new baby. Saw it in a dream last night."  
  
Emma smiled, reaching over and helping Will cut up a particularly big chunk of pancake. "Better be a girl," Emma said, immediately dropping the shock of the moment and going on with their breakfast.  
  
Spike watched in slack-jawed awe at his children. One would bring Peace to all dimensions. The other was starting to see what lies ahead. Part of Spike wondered what the next one might bring.  
  
To be contd. 


	6. The Flight

Good evening, All!  
  
Wow, I made it to the deadline. YAY!  
  
I need to thank my awesome betas, Carrie, Pat, Lindsay, Alane, Cindy and Crystal. They have all done so much for me lately. I can write, but often times, my brain gets *way* ahead of my fingers and I'm a horrible proofreader!  
  
Tonight is a first as the members of Always have decided that I should release to them first. Since they've joined up and been there all the way, I decided it was the least I could do. So, to the Always crew, you *so* rock! If you aren't a part of it, come by. Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. We're making some changes, and it should be really great.  
  
Hope you like this chapter. A lot of fantasy and a lot of fantastic. So, if you would, please let me know what you like, and even what you didn't. I keep writing this story for you, and it helps when I know I'm doing all right(  
  
Thanks again for all of your support!  
  
*Joy*,  
  
Nimue  
  
Title: The Flight (Chapter Six of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
Summary: Buffy tells Willow of her unexpected expectancy. The Queen approaches Joyce to discuss an offer.  
  
The Flight  
  
It was a beautiful, fall day as Buffy walked, Will toddling next to her and Kali balanced on her hip. Willow was chipper, carrying her son, and chatting away about her new job and the kids and Oz and Tara, but Buffy was lost in her own thoughts, wanting to see. Wanting to know. Wanting this feeling inside of her to be real.  
  
". and then Tara.. Hey, Buffy? With me, here?" Willow asked, smiling as they crested the small hill into the park.  
  
"Hmm?" Buffy asked, snapping back to reality and turning her head toward Willow. A sheepish grin broke across her face. "Sorry, a little lost in thought."  
  
"Guess the adventures of the Witches and the Werewolf aren't that exciting," the redhead pouted half-heartedly, working her way across the well manicured lawn and over to a bench.  
  
Buffy chuckled. "Oh, it's interesting. Just. have other stuff on my mind. Didn't mean to be all distracto-girl."  
  
Willow lowered herself onto the park bench, Buffy settling next to her. Will stood before his mum with wide questioning eyes. His mother smiled knowingly. "Yes, you can go play on the swings. But stay close and don't talk to any strangers, okay?"  
  
Will nodded. "Yes, mummy." Before the words had even escaped his lips he was running towards the swing set where a few other park regulars were playing.  
  
"So," Willow began again. "If the hilarity and high jinks of my life can't hold your attention, what's up?"  
  
"Hunh?" Buffy asked, her mind flitting off to the previous night, and Spike, and the white light, and that feeling. That feeling of being complete. In one moment, feeling whole.  
  
Concern crossed the Witch's face. " You all right?"  
  
Buffy turned her attention back to Willow again, fighting the urge to lose herself in her thoughts. "Yeah, just. thinking."  
  
"And back to the what's up?"  
  
Buffy shifted Kali onto her lap and debated telling Willow. It was so early. Last night. No way of really telling yet. No way to know.  
  
Spike's words echoed in her head. 'I know it, Pet.'  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Um," the Slayer started, hesitantly. "Well, you see, there was this thing and."  
  
"There are lots of 'this things' in Sunnydale. More specific with the thing?" Willow chided.  
  
"Last night. Spike and I were, you know, doing what Spike and I do."  
  
"If it's not patrolling, I'm sorry I asked," the redhead commented, smiling. "A little TMI, Buff."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "No, well, I mean, yeah, but that's not the point."  
  
"Still walking dangerously into the grounds of the information not needed. Have I ever told you I was gay?"  
  
Another eruption of giggles relaxed Buffy enough to spit it out. "The point being that something was different last night, I mean, with the too much information part."  
  
"I'm afraid to ask," Willow interjected, smiling and cuddling Loki against her chest.  
  
A smirk crossed Buffy's face. Something she'd perfected after nearly a decade of dealing with Spike. "Will, I think... I think I'm pregnant."  
  
Willow's eyes grew wide. "You mean, with another baby?"  
  
"I'm hoping. I mean birthing something else might be a little. ewww." She shuddered for emphasis.  
  
"From last night? How do you know?" The look on Willow's face was between utter shock and complete elation.  
  
"Skipping all the delicious, yet TMI, parts, in the middle of. well, one of the TMI parts, there was this light and it surrounded us both and then it was like. I don't know. I mean, I felt it, Will. So did he. And then it was. that empty space that was there, wanting another baby, was gone. "  
  
"Spike knows?" Willow asked, studying the cautious joy on her best friend's face.  
  
"He felt it too. He's sure. Willow, I'm sure," Buffy said, almost pulling off conviction.  
  
Willow sighed. Always hesitant to use magic now when there were other ways, she debated telling Buffy that she could find out if she truly wanted to know. Buffy's wistful look, clouded by the absolute terror that she was wrong, clinched it for the Witch.  
  
"Do you want to know for sure?" Willow asked.  
  
Buffy's head snapped around, nearly giving her whiplash. "How. what do you mean?"  
  
"I can tell," the Witch answered. "If you want me to. It's sort of magic, though."  
  
"Will it hurt the baby? I mean, if there is one?" Buffy asked, that cautiousness interrupting her excitement yet again.  
  
Willow shook her head. "No, no, nothing like that. Nothing at all invasive or anything. Just a little. prickly."  
  
Buffy thought for a moment. Spike's mantra that magic always has consequences played through her head. But this wasn't really doing anything, changing anything. Not altering the fabric of reality. Plus, Willow was a really powerful and really careful Witch now. She wouldn't do anything that might possibly screw things up for them.  
  
"This won't. there won't be consequences, right?"  
  
"Channeling Spike, much?" Willow joked, smiling. "Consequence free. I know. Tara and I used it after. well, the thing with Oz."  
  
"And back to the TMI," Buffy chided, a smile breaking on her face. "So, no swallowing anything nasty or prodding, or any some such?"  
  
"Nope. Not big into the prodding outside of my office," Willow answered, a reciprocal smile on her face. "So, do you want to know?"  
  
Buffy looked up at the sky, studying the big, white, puffy clouds. Thinking the answer might be there. Her eyes closed, as she thought. Would this be okay with whoever let this be?  
  
A voice in her head, a lovely female voice, answered, "Yes".  
  
Would Spike be upset with her for knowing?  
  
A more familiar, velvety, chocolate purr, "Of course not, Pet. Want you to be happy. Want you to be sure."  
  
Buffy looked over at Willow. "What do I have to do?"  
  
Willow took Kali and sat her beside Loki on the bench between them. "Don't have to do anything. Effort free," the redhead answered, keeping Buffy's gaze in hers. "Just relax and enjoy the show."  
  
Buffy furrowed her brow as Willow reached over, across her two children, and placed her palm over Buffy's stomach. Not touching, but only inches away.  
  
At first, nothing happened, but as Buffy watched, a glow coalesced between Willow's hand and her stomach. A warm, white glow that prickled Buffy's skin. The glow began to take shape. At first, a spinning ball that divided and grew and swirled and shaped until a tiny form appeared in the air. Willow smiled, looking at Buffy's wide eyes.  
  
"Congratulations," the Witch said quietly, her smile spreading ear to ear.  
  
Buffy was awestruck. "That's. that's . is that?"  
  
"Not yet. But soon," Willow answered, watching Buffy's eyes fill with tears and her hand cup over her mouth. "Do you want to know whether or not it will be a boy or a girl?"  
  
Buffy shook her head; freeing one tear and watching it fall on Willow's cupped palm. "No. Spike. he should be there if we. I don't know if I even want to know this time." Her hand stretched down and joined Willow's, cupping the glow in her hand.  
  
"Pretty cool?" The Witch commented.  
  
Buffy nodded. "Very."  
  
Willow dropped her concentration and the glow disappeared. Buffy's eyes raised to hers, both women smiling and crying at the same time. "So, you're going to have another baby!"  
  
The Slayer thought for a moment, her hand resting across her flat stomach and smiled. "I'm going to have another baby." ~~~~~~  
  
The Queen walked down the sky blue rise of her castle in the clouds towards the Gates of Heaven. Lush and verdant and full of love and life. Her trips to the Valley of Souls always warmed her heart. The best of the mortal world resided here, in the Kingdom of the Sky, and it never ceased to amaze her, the love and generosity that beings that had so little power, so little control over their existence, could express to each other, and to her.  
  
This trip, however, was a business trip. She'd sent her King to the Court to tell the other Queens of the decisions that had been made in regard to the One. Really, although equally powerful, they had no control over what the Sky Queen did with her emissaries and her crusaders. But the future of the Peacemaker, and thus the One, affected all of their Kingdoms. All planes of existence. Besides, it was only polite.  
  
The Queen passed her hand through the air at the Gates and they opened, allowing her passage into the paradise beyond. The mortal souls, happy and contented, were all around her, talking and laughing and playing. Serene and gentle and so very sweet. Some bowed to the Queen but she always raised them immediately. This was their rest, where they had their reward for the brutalities of life. For constantly having to bow to someone or another for some strange mortal reason. The last thing they deserved was to be asked to do it in their peace. Still, some of the newer souls insisted.  
  
Finally, the Queen came upon a member of her Court. A beautiful Pegasus with wings of gold, standing guard over the inner gates. The creature bowed , one leg bent to the ground, his head dropping, as the Queen approached.  
  
"Oh, Mercurius, please. You should know better by now," the Queen laughed, approaching the silvery white creature and patting him softly on the muzzle.  
  
Mercurius straightened, snorting a little and leaning into the Queen's touch. "My Lady, it is only polite."  
  
"Polite or no, you are under no obligation to bow down at my very presence. You should know I do not expect that of my Court."  
  
Again, Mercurius snorted. "You are a different Queen, my Lady. But suffice it to say that my upbringing will not abide by improper etiquette."  
  
"Your father was quite a stickler for that," the Queen responded with a chuckle. "However, I corrected him constantly as well."  
  
At that, the Pegasus whinnied, the closest his kind could come to a laugh. "What is it I can do for you this day, my Queen?"  
  
"I am looking for the mother of the Slayer," the Queen responded kindly. "I have a proposition for her."  
  
The Pegasus nodded, never questioning his mistress's commands. "Shall I find her for you?"  
  
The Queen nodded, then her face slackened a bit. "No. I'd like to go to her, this time. It's been too long since I've toured the Valley of Souls."  
  
Mercurius nodded again and went down onto his front knees, allowing the Queen to swing upon his back effortlessly. He straightened again, rising up to his full, impressive height as slowly and fluidly as ever a creature could manage. Carrying his Queen through her Kingdom was his kind's greatest honour and he would not take the chance of letting her fall.  
  
"Are you ready, my Queen?"  
  
"I am," she answered, smiling and patting his neck. "Show me my world, my loyal Mercurius."  
  
"My great pleasure, my Lady."  
  
With that, he pressed gracefully up onto his rear legs and pushed effortlessly into the air, gliding above the verdant land below.  
  
The Queen watched the land pass underneath. Her World, if she dared say, was the most beautiful of the Kingdoms. Land meets Sky. Air meets Earth. Light was soft and kind and the colours were such that the mortal mind could not fathom the hues even in the most vivid corners of their minds. Fields and valleys and forests and plains passed underneath their feet as Mercurius glided gracefully, golden wings catching the air and reflecting the light of the sun into a rainbow of colour and light.  
  
Slowly, he descended by a stream near the Forest of Laughter, landing without a wobble on the lush, green banks. The breeze in the trees made them sound as if they were always giggling, smiling, happy. It was one of the Queen's favourite spots, and swinging her bare feet down onto the soft, pillowy grass as Mercurius knelt, reminded her why.  
  
Even the soil felt joyous, the blades of grass, peaceful. The air was light and breezy and calm. It was there that she found her subject, sitting on the bank of the stream, watching it ebb and flow around the rocks. A young girl, barely a teenager, sat with her, giggling at the older woman's tales.  
  
"Joyce," the Queen said fondly, the smile on her face coming out in the lilt of her voice. Joyce looked up wide eyed and then stood, scrambling up the bank and bowing her head. "My Lady," she said quietly.  
  
The Queen took a step forward, placing her hand underneath the woman's chin, raising her eyes to meet her own. "Do not bow before me. You are not my servant. You are my guest."  
  
"Yes, my Lady," Joyce answered quietly, staring into the brilliant, beautiful eyes of the Queen.  
  
"Besides," The Queen continued. "We are nearly related now. My daughter is now your granddaughter. My greatest weapon, half your blood."  
  
Joyce smiled. "Buffy."  
  
The Queen nodded, returning the smile. "Buffy," she repeated. The little girl that had been sitting with Joyce stood, walking over next to them.  
  
"Yes?" Her small voice said.  
  
The Queen looked at the girl. "You, my darling. Would you like to ride on Mercurius?"  
  
The girl, that part of Buffy who had died to allow the rest to become the Slayer and then the One, sized up the winged horse and smiled. "Can I?"  
  
Both Joyce and the Queen chuckled. "You may."  
  
Mercurius again bowed, allowing the girl to pull her up using his mane as leverage, then straightened and looked at his Queen. She nodded and he launched, taking the little girl on a ride across the Heavens.  
  
The two women were quiet for a moment, watching the girl and her winged friend fly until they disappeared from sight. It was then that they returned their attention to one another.  
  
"To what do I owe this pleasure?" Joyce asked, cocking her head and studying her beautiful Queen with awed curiosity.  
  
"I have a proposition for you," the Queen said, taking Joyce's hand and leading her back down the bank to the spot where she had been sitting before. They both lowered themselves onto the soft grass and watched the water swirl by.  
  
"Okay," Joyce finally answered, looking back at the Queen. "What. what is it?"  
  
The Queen sighed, looking from Joyce to the water, then back to Joyce. "Emma, your granddaughter, my child, came to me the other night," she began; studying the flow of the clear, blue water. "She told me that the One wanted another child. That the Slayer was sad and the Vampire was helpless to make it right."  
  
Joyce returned her gaze to the water. "I can see that in Buffy. She always wanted to be a mother. Have kids. Be a wife. Amazing considering what she lived through with."  
  
"You did not fail her in any way," the Queen interrupted, cutting off that line of thought. "She is wise and loving and caring, traits that I can only attribute to your tutelage."  
  
Joyce chuckled. "I did my best. It was. a lot."  
  
"And we knew you could handle it. That is why she was given to you," the Queen responded. "And, although we had never anticipated the union of the One producing more than the Peacemaker, Emma, we had to take into account the human desire for family and love and need. So we granted them William."  
  
Buffy's mother smiled fondly, remembering the awkward, yet handsome, sweet man that had kept her company when she first arrived. She had seen him as a child both on Earth, and in dreams while she'd been here. He was happy now. Where he belonged. "You were kind to give him that choice."  
  
"It was a reward. To him, mostly, for making the Vampire what he is today. For leaving the sense of dignity and romance and value which allowed a creature of darkness to become a creature of light."  
  
Joyce nodded her understanding. William was the part of Spike that allowed him to love Buffy. To take care of her baby, and her baby's babies. "And now?" Joyce asked, again returning her gaze to the Queen.  
  
The Queen sighed, remembering how she melted in Emma's sweet smile and heartfelt plea. "Well, again, we've been forced to rethink our decision. Of course, there is no reason, in the cosmic scheme of things, to grant the One another child. The Peacemaker is their mission."  
  
Joyce almost interrupted, wanting to correct the Queen. Explain that their lives on Earth were more than just a mission. But the Queen held up a hand. "But we understand that their happiness, their success, their lives on Earth are more than just their duties as our pawns. That they have wants and needs and desires that we do not necessarily understand. Or think are vital. But, they have been good to us, and to each other, and to our World, so I could not make any choice other than to grant their wish."  
  
An excitement flashed through Joyce's eyes. "So."  
  
"Buffy is pregnant," the Queen answered. "The third child of the One will be born into their world."  
  
Joyce almost beamed with pride, her eyes filling with tears. She was so happy for Buffy. So happy for Spike. But part of her was so incredibly sad. So sorry that she'd miss another grandchild being born. Miss playing with them. Watching them grow and learn and spoiling them rotten and never having to discipline them. Watching her daughter beam at their every move, and her unlikely son-in-law fall asleep with an infant cradled in his arms.  
  
The Queen sensed Joyce's conflict. "I've come with an offer," she said quietly.  
  
Joyce turned again, eyes still teary. "What. what is that?"  
  
The beautiful Queen took her hand, holding it gently in her own. "I need to know that those that surround the One are true. I need them to be honest and kind and loving and strong. I know that their lives are not just about our mission, but I do have to protect that mission."  
  
Slowly, Joyce nodded her understanding. "I agree."  
  
"So, I came here today to ask you.. Would you like to go home?"  
  
To be contd. 


	7. Trading Spaces

Well, hello there!  
  
Bet you thought I gave up on you!  
  
Nah, real life has just been a bit hectic of late. So, I am a bit behind. But we should be in good shape this week and maybe even next. In the meantime, I will also add some of the short fics to the always group.  
  
Ooh, and a new tidbit. I got a Live Journal recently. Most of it is just chatter (feel free to hop in), but the new chapters will be there too. Stop on by. The address is below.  
  
So, on we go with the story. Please let me know what you think!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*,  
  
Nimue  
  
Title: Trading Spaces (Chapter Seven of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: Joyce delivers her decision to the Queen. Spike has an important talk with Cyrus and Giles.  
  
Trading Spaces  
  
Joyce sat on the bank of the river, those words echoing through her head.  
  
"Would you like to go home?"  
  
So many thoughts. So many emotions in that one little question. To see them again - Buffy, Dawn - even through different eyes. But to see them. To touch them. Feel that love.  
  
Heaven, in all of her glory and unconditional love and happiness, could not replicate the kind of complete belonging of family. To hold and be held. To touch and be touched. To watch her grandchildren grow up, even if they were now her siblings.  
  
But Buffy. *This* world's Buffy. The child that had to die for the Slayer to exist. Even if leaving, in the grand scheme of things, was only temporary, what would that child do? How would she feel? Who would sit by the river and skip stones and talk about the colours of the flower petals and the way that the Pegasus' wings moved differently from that of the bird?  
  
Finally, Joyce's attention flitted from the quiet ebb and flow of the water and back to her Queen. "What would. what would happen to Buffy?"  
  
The Queen furrowed her brow, not quite sure of the question. Joyce shook her head in two quick movements and clarified. "This Buffy. The child Buffy."  
  
A small smile painted the Queen's rosy lips. "She will, of course, be invited to stay in the Palace of the Sky under my protection. If you are to be part of the group that watches over my child, I shall certainly watch over yours while you are away."  
  
Joyce nodded slowly, her attention returning to the water. "Would I remember? I mean. will I remember being Buffy's mother?"  
  
"You will have a sense of them. Know that your past with your parents goes far beyond the life that you live. But, no. You won't remember the life from which you just came. You will not remember being her mother," the Queen replied.  
  
Again Joyce nodded. It was silent now except for the sound of the river flowing and the trees giggling quietly in the background. Joyce watched the water, hoping, wondering, waiting for it to give her an answer.  
  
"And you said you would take care of this Buffy? Tell her that I would not leave her forever?" Tears began to spill down the woman's cheeks.  
  
The Queen's gentle hand reached out and brushed the tears away with hands as soft as rose petals. Delicately, she turned Joyce's face to look at hers and smiled a soft, genuine smile. "My dear, remember that the time one spends away is but the blink of an eye here. I know for you, this has seemed a long road. But the passage of time in Heaven is relative. A lifetime on Earth can pass in seconds here. Or, when you miss the ones that you love, it can be an eternity. I am only offering you a chance to spend one more blink of the eye with your family. You do not have to take it. But, for your sacrifices in order to preserve your daughter, and the One, you have earned it. Your daughter, the one who had to cross to this dimension in order to allow the Union of the One to occur, will be rewarded for her sacrifice as well. In the meantime, I will guard her as one of my own. Love her as I have loved you and all of those who come to stay with me. To her, your time away will be but a dream. One night's dream."  
  
Tears flowed in silvery ribbons down Joyce's cheeks as she listened to the smooth, soothing voice of the Queen. Her heart was bursting and breaking at the same moment.  
  
"Do you want to go home, my child?"  
  
"Yes." ~~~~~  
  
Spike walked through the heavy oak doors, customary swagger in tow, and into the establishment, surveying his surroundings all the while. The walls were a deep cherry paneling, the floor much the same. Crimson and gold tapestries hung along the walls and rich burgundy leather chairs surrounded cherry wood tables of varying sizes, glossed to a near blinding radiance. There was a bar at the far end of the room, polished and gleaming, and a barkeep in a crisp black suit drying glasses to a dazzling shine.  
  
This was definitely a step up from the Bronze.  
  
Finally, Spike spotted his target sitting in a leather chair against the wall, taking a long, smooth pull of his draft, a cigar smoldering in the crystal ashtray on the table in front of him. Slowly, Spike made his way across the intimate space, feeling guilty about even looking at other patrons. This was not the type of place in which one people-watched and "restyled" as Buffy had once explained to him in the mall as she ripped into the ensembles of passers-by.  
  
"Spike?" The familiar voice said as Spike approached the table. He had been told to dress properly. No jeans. No boots. No broken-in leather armour. With much grumbling, Buffy had dressed him in sleek black pants, a fitted black shirt with a collar and buttons which she promised to unbutton later in an even more kittenish way, and polished black shoes. His silver belt buckle was the only break from the funeral attire. Buffy could change the clothes but not the man.  
  
A small smile broke on his face. Didn't think she wanted to change him anymore. That felt quite good.  
  
"Rupert," Spike answered, shaking the hand offered to him and settling into a chair across the table.  
  
Cyrus walked up in a customary, Watcher-issue tweed suit, carrying three pints of golden ale and settling them down in the center of the table.  
  
"Thanks, mate," Spike said, taking a glass and immediately downing a gulp before nodding his approval at the Watchers. Cyrus shook his head, a smile on his lips, and lowered himself into the seat between Giles and Spike.  
  
"Step up from the Bronze, innit?" Spike commented, looking round the perfectly appointed room.  
  
"Quite," Giles answered, a smug grin on his face. "I had to do a little rerouting of funds and a bit of string-pulling with the Council, but I think it will do."  
  
Spike furrowed his brow, head tilting as he worked through that remark. "You own this place?"  
  
"Technically, no," Giles answered, removing his glasses and setting them down onto the polished table. He rubbed his eyes gently, thinking. "The Council owns most of it. I'd explained that Sunnydale proper was utterly devoid of any suitable place to entertain visiting Watchers and researchers into the mythology of the One."  
  
"Hey, there!" Spike snapped, mildly offended. "Not a myth, Buffy and me."  
  
"I meant it in the kindest way possible," Rupert responded without missing a beat, a smile breaking on his face as he took another pull of his draft.  
  
Spike relaxed, chuckling and returning the smile. Cyrus shook his head. Watching the two of them interact was like watching a cat with a mouse. Only it was anyone's guess as to whose turn it was to be the feline.  
  
"So, got a bit bored with watering down at the Bronze and figured a way to get the Council to provide you with a more. age appropriate establishment?" Spike questioned, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Except for the extremely low crack about the age, yes."  
  
Spike chuckled again, taking another drink from the chilled bar glass. "Nice place you got here."  
  
"Thanks," Cyrus answered, joining the conversation. "It was. a project."  
  
"Watcher turned interior decorator," Spike teased, another bit of golden liquid missing from the glass.  
  
Cyrus did his best to smirk a response.  
  
"So, Spike. What brings us here tonight? I believe it was you who called to meet with us? Something wrong with Emma? William? Buffy?" Giles's tone changed almost instantly from casual to serious as he listed the people who had become his family.  
  
Spike shook his head quickly, banishing the thought from the Watcher's mind in an instant. "Nothin' like that, mate. Buffy'n the kids are right as rain."  
  
"Then to what do we owe the pleasure?" Giles asked. "Not that it was a burden. Anya has become quite addicted to Trading Spaces and is currently remaking our house and driving me up the wall."  
  
"Lovely shade of pink she painted your bedroom," Cyrus teased, ducking the swat that doubtless was coming his way.  
  
Spike laughed. A rich, relaxed purr of a sound. It had been a while since he'd been out alone with just the men. Much as he loved Buffy, he realized that even the greatest of loves needed a night or two off.  
  
"Won't even start," Spike muttered, stifling a laugh. "Poofter."  
  
"Now, Spike," Giles began to scold, his face reddening with anger.  
  
"Easy, Watcher. Got to remember, got two women of my own in the house. I drew the line at fuzzy pink bathmats and frilly pillows."  
  
Giles relaxed, his own chuckle bubbling up from deep within. "I do believe they've emasculated us."  
  
"Still got my rocks," Spike bragged, taking a suitably manly swig of beer.  
  
Cyrus laughed. "Right. That's why you were carrying Buffy's purse, holding Emma's hand and toting along school supplies in the mall last week."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Just pointing out," Cyrus teased, ducking from a swat on the opposite side.  
  
Spike let the laughter die down a bit and waited for a lull in the jovial banter. Had to think of a way to tell them. Had to come up with the right words.  
  
He chuckled to himself, muttering, "Actually, my rocks had a bit to do with it."  
  
"Pardon?" Giles said, nearly spitting out his mouthful of beer.  
  
"Say that aloud, did I? Sorry," Spike answered, smile lighting his face.  
  
"Mind explaining that comment?" Giles asked shaking his head briskly to banish any and all thoughts of Spike's rocks, and what they could do, from his head.  
  
"Right," Spike began, leaning back in his chair and taking up a completely manly slouch. "Got a bit of news that Buffy and I thought you should know." He paused for a minute, deciding if he should drop an annoyance bomb. Course. "Dad."  
  
"Hate it when you call me that," Giles snapped, eliciting a throaty laugh from Cyrus and a smug grin of satisfaction from Spike. "Out with it. You're making my skin crawl more than normal tonight."  
  
Spike laughed, leaning forward. "Haven't told anyone else. Well, 'magine Buffy told Red this afternoon, but I'm thinking she wants to keep it quiet a while. You know, 'til things are definite."  
  
"Definite?" Cyrus asked.  
  
"What in God's name are you getting at Spike? I'm quite sure that there's a point buried in there somewhere," Giles sighed, taking another pull from the bar glass.  
  
"Love it when your knickers are in a bunch, Watcher," Spike teased. He waited a moment, letting the snarkiness fade off before he got to the crux of the issue. "We think, Buffy and I, well I'm sure, I think."  
  
"Out with it, "Giles snapped, annoyance lacing his tone.  
  
"Looks like Buffy and I are due to have another tot," Spike blurted, a satisfied smile making the lines around his eyes dance. "So, guess it does have something to do with my stones."  
  
Both Cyrus and Giles sat there in disbelief, slack jawed and staring at the Vampire. Spike's smile faded, wondering what brought on this reaction. Finally, Cyrus broke the silence.  
  
"You sure?"  
  
"Haven't been to the doctor yet, but. yeah," Spike answered, curiosity replacing sarcasm in his voice.  
  
"How is it possible?" Giles muttered to himself. "By all accounts, the prophesy allowed for only one child to be born to the One."  
  
"Buffy's not one for following prophesies to the letter, Watcher. Should know that one by now. Bit of a rebel, my girl," Spike mused, his smile returning as thoughts of her pretty face, her perfect, golden body, her smile, her eyes, flooded his mind. It made him want to run home. Who needed nights alone with the men?  
  
"Quite right on that count," Giles responded, rubbing his eyes again. "A third Windsor child," he thought aloud. "God help us, every one."  
  
"Hey now. Tots we have are good little mites and you know it," Spike defended.  
  
Giles chuckled at Spike's fierce protectiveness over his family. "Spike, they're lovely children. I'm just giving you a bit of a hard time."  
  
Spike relaxed, returning to the more casual slouch. "They are, aren't they?"  
  
"Quite," Cyrus said. "I doubt anyone could have possibly imagined that the Slayer and her Vampire would make such good parents."  
  
"Hey, not *her* anything," Spike snapped, defending his much talked about rocks. He felt the lie in the words as they slid from his lips.  
  
Giles and Cyrus burst into gales of laughter. "Spike, you're a slave to her and those children. In a good way, but you're her everything," Cyrus retorted, chuckling softly.  
  
"Willing slave," Spike corrected, slouching further in the chair. "Got to give me some credit."  
  
"I'll grant you that," Giles responded, amused. The laughter died slowly down at the table and they fell silent, musing on what was said. Spike and Buffy becoming parents for the third time. The thought should terrify them all. A Vampire. A Slayer. A prophesy.  
  
But it didn't. In fact, it filled them all with the warmth that only true joy could bring.  
  
"So, I suppose I get to play grandfather once again," Giles sighed, smiling, lifting his glass towards the others. "I can't wait."  
  
The two other men lifted their glasses in turn.  
  
"To Spike and Buffy and their newest child. May he, or she, be as happy and as healthy as the two before," Giles recited, clinking glasses with his partners.  
  
"Hear hear," both Cyrus and Spike said in unison.  
  
"And God help us all," Giles snarked, under his breath.  
  
"Congratulations."  
  
To be contd. 


	8. On the Way

Good evening, All(  
  
Whew! I made it! Somehow I managed to get this out in time! YAY!  
  
Well, I made this chapter extra long and chock full of major revelations, as I will not be able to release next week. Alas, I will be in Los Angeles for my birthday and won't have a chance to type it up and post it!  
  
So, I do hope you enjoy this and *please* let me know how you feel!  
  
Have a great week!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*,  
  
Nimue  
  
Title: On the Way (Chapter Eight of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: Two months into the future. It is now Thanksgiving Day. A look into the lives of some of the other couples in the extended family as they prepare for what should be a big night. And Buffy and Spike aren't the only ones with an announcement.  
  
On the Way  
  
Anya stood before her vanity, putting on lipstick and checking her new chestnut coloured dress from every angle.  
  
"I still don't understand why humans dress up to go to someone's house and eat, especially when they go there all the time and jeans are good enough," she whined, hiking up her skirt to adjust her slip.  
  
Giles chuckled, shrugging on a black jacket. "I suppose, dear, that the change in clothing signifies the event is something out of the ordinary." Slowly, he worked his way behind his love, wrapping arms around her waist and kissing the crown of her head. "But regardless of the reason, you look stunning."  
  
Anya smiled, looking at their reflection in the mirror. Slowly, she wiggled around in his arms and pushed up on her toes to kiss him properly. "I love it when you give good feedback."  
  
Again, Giles chuckled. "Most like to call it a compliment."  
  
"Compliment, whatever," Anya answered, pressing her lips against him again. She eyed the bed, wondering silently if there were time to play a little game of stuff the turkey, but decided that it would be rude and would make Rupert mad if they were late for Buffy's dinner.  
  
"I should go get Randy," she whispered, her voice hoarse with lust.  
  
Giles was instantly intrigued by her tone, pressing against her. "Anya," he breathed, kissing her cheek, her neck, as delicately as butterfly's wings. Her eyes slid closed, wondering how rude late really was.  
  
Finally, her well-studied etiquette lessons got the better of her and she grunted, pushing him away. "I need to go get Randy. Buffy's going to be all upset if we're not on time and she's all hyped up about something she wants to tell us and I wish people just told people when they had news instead of being all mysterious about it and."  
  
Giles sighed, trying to collect his raging hormones and rein them back in. "I've put out the outfit you bought him, and the nanny gave him a bath before she left."  
  
Anya nodded, backing slowly out of his embrace and turning around. As she reached the door, she turned again to face him. "Rupert?"  
  
"Yes, dear?" He questioned, straightening his suit jacket.  
  
"When we get home, can we have a little. celebration of our own?"  
  
A smile broke across the man's face. "Absolutely, my love." ~~~~~  
  
"So, act surprised, right?" Tara asked, fastening her long, flowing skirt. It was a pretty cream colour, with autumn leaves in browns and yellows and greens and oranges embossed on the fabric.  
  
Willow giggled. "Yeah, because Buffy'd be really upset if she knew I told you."  
  
"Don't you think she would have assumed that you did?" Tara moved around and zipped the back of Willow's dress.  
  
"Buffy? No. She's all with the secrets when she wants to be."  
  
"Did you tell Oz?"  
  
"Tell me what?" Oz asked, coming into the bedroom, dressed in jeans and a white button down, a black suit jacket over the top and a tot in each arm, both dressed in their best new Thanksgiving outfits. Almost matching.  
  
"No," Willow said to Tara, giggling and turning back to Oz, loosing Loki from his arms and pulling him against her. "And doesn't my little man look handsome."  
  
"You got them dressed?" Tara asked, gently smiling and freeing Kali from Oz's other arm, allowing him to finish fastening his cuffs and straightening his jacket.  
  
"I did," Oz said, returning her smile. "Amazing how little people clothes are much like ours."  
  
"What with the buttons and zippers," Willow agreed, nodding. "And you look. wow."  
  
"Very nice," Tara agreed, sizing up the man and winking.  
  
Oz raised an eyebrow and gave them his best playboy look. "You're just trying to get me to father more babies." He sighed deeply. "The life of a prize stallion."  
  
Both girls laughed, each taking one of his arms. "Not now, dear, I've got a . well, I like girls." Willow laughed, heading to the door.  
  
"All the good ones are either gay or taken," Oz replied, sighing again wistfully.  
  
"But at least you get to live in the strangest version of the Brady Bunch ever, and help raise your absolutely wonderful kids," Willow consoled, kissing Oz's cheek and then Loki's head.  
  
"This is true, and definitely of the good," the Werewolf responded, brushing stray hair from his daughter's face. "Not to mention two of the best friends a guy could have."  
  
"I bet we sort of. screw up your whole dating scene," Tara commented, grabbing her sweater and slipping a coat onto Kali.  
  
Oz watched the two women get ready to go out, lovingly helping their children and each other, preparing for another extended family gathering. It had never occurred to him, not even once, that he could, or should, be dating. He got everything he needed here, with them. And, on rare occasions, a night alone with a girlie mag.  
  
"I'm pretty happy where I am," he answered, his voice full of conviction.  
  
Tara smiled, her face lighting up. "Well, we're pretty happy you stayed."  
  
"You know, for prize stallion purposes," Willow snarked, kissing his cheek and taking his arm again. "Ready?"  
  
Oz shook his head, chuckling. "As I'll ever be. Ladies?" ~~~~~~~~  
  
Dawn was tearing around the room like a chicken with her head cut off, her black dress still unzipped in the back and her skin still glistening from the shower. "Where are my black shoes?" She screeched, scrabbling through the closet.  
  
Brian sat on the bed, a smile on his face. Something about her, even when she was a disorganized mess, was just so. beautiful. Slowly, he stood, making his way over to his girlfriend and grabbing her hips, pulling her toward him. She stopped her frantic movements at his touch and turned facing him. "We're going to be *so* late," she sighed, resigned.  
  
Again, he smiled, backing her towards the bed and settling her down on the mattress. "Sit," he ordered, walking back to the closet and instinctively picking out the exact pair of black heels that she'd been looking for in less than a second.  
  
"How did."  
  
"I know you," he answered, grinning and walking back to her. He dropped to his knees, picking up one of her perfect, well-pedicured feet and sliding the shoe on, letting his fingers trace the arch of her foot. She closed her eyes at the touch.  
  
"Brian," she sighed.  
  
"What?" He answered, coyly.  
  
"Ummm."  
  
"No foot rubs now. Maybe later," he joked, slipping the other shoe on and buckling the ankle straps.  
  
When he was finished, he rocked back on his heels, looking up at her. She blinked, looking back, her eyes glistening with love and happiness. "What?" She asked, suddenly feeling self conscious under his gaze.  
  
Brian's smile faded, taking in the woman that Dawn had become. Tall, with shining dark hair, her body long and lean but still decidedly feminine, with curves in all the right places. She could have been a model. She should have been. She could have had any man she wanted.  
  
But she picked him.  
  
And he never *once* took that for granted.  
  
"Dawn," he began, his voice choked with emotion. She looked down at him quizzically, nervously smiling, her fingers toying with her necklace.  
  
"What?" Another nervous giggle.  
  
Brian closed his eyes. Breathed. Slid his hand into his pants pocket. "I."  
  
"You." she teased, not looking at anything but his gorgeous brown eyes, his chiseled features and square chin. His beautiful dark brown hair.  
  
He swallowed. "I know how you . I know that. oh, hell, Dawnie."  
  
A puzzled look crossed her face. "So confused now."  
  
"I know you don't know how you feel about. well, what happened with your mom and dad. But you. your sister and Spike are so happy and I . we. could be that happy," Brian stuttered, squeezing the box in his palm and trying not to sweat profusely.  
  
"What." Dawn muttered, her expression somewhere between terrified and excited.  
  
Brian took a deep breath, raising his hand to her knee and opening it, palm up. "I think I could make you that happy."  
  
Dawn looked at the small velvet box, then at his face. Back to the box. Gingerly, she reached down, taking it from his hand and examining it, almost scientifically.  
  
"It's prettier inside," Brian joked nervously.  
  
Dawn held her breath, not sure how she would react when she saw what was inside but knowing she had to face this question sooner or later. Her heart pounded in her chest, her hands suddenly shaking, making the box vibrate. Distantly, she felt his hand on her arm, steadying it, but her entire focus was on the box.  
  
Slowly, she brought her other hand to the top, lifting it open, almost as terrified of what was inside as she was thrilled. She *loved* this man. With every fiber of her being. She had tried, over and over, to imagine what life would be without him and every time she concluded that it would be only half a life. Half a love. Half a World. But still..  
  
Dawn's breath caught in her throat as she saw it. A silver ring with a moonstone, a little like Buffy's but a more modern setting, and a ring of small diamonds around the center stone. Remotely, she felt tears drizzle down her cheeks, smearing her newly applied mascara.  
  
"I. I thought that. that you'd want something different. And since. since you always talked about how Spike and Buffy belonged together, and how it was different for them, I thought maybe you'd think it was kind of. good luck, if I picked something. like hers." His voice shook with fear and emotion. "If you don't like it."  
  
"I." Dawn whispered, her voice choked with tears. "It's beautiful. I love it."  
  
Finally, she hazarded a glance at Brian. His face was so full of hope, of promise, of want. He adored her. Loved her endlessly. Would do anything for her, and had.  
  
He was the one. *Her* one.  
  
"Dawn," Brian said, quietly, pushing himself back onto his knees. "I would be honoured if you'd marry me. "  
  
The words struck her like a lightning bolt, flashes of photos of her mom and dad, of fights and screaming and abandonment and anger, followed by images of Spike with his arms around Buffy, holding their babies, feeling their love in any room in which they stood together. Then of Brian, and his endless devotion, and perfect little dark haired children playing in the sunshine with the others.  
  
"Please," he continued, not sure what to make of her almost blank countenance.  
  
"Yes," Dawn whispered, almost inaudibly.  
  
"Okay," Brian said, a smile breaking on his face. "But do you think you could say that again so that I can hear it?"  
  
Dawn giggled through her tears, reaching down to touch his face. "Yes, Brian. Yes, yes yes."  
  
He pulled her down to him, scooping her into his arms and holding her more ferociously than he wanted, but she laughed, kissing his neck, holding him just as tightly and hoping. Hoping. Hoping.  
  
Slowly, he pushed her back, taking her hand and sliding the ring on her finger. It glowed as if it had found its true home. She stared at it for a long moment, moving her hand to catch the light.  
  
Suddenly, her face lit up. "Ohmigod! We can tell them all tonight!"  
  
"Hence my impeccable timing!" Brian snarked, brushing her hair back from her face and kissing her lips softly.  
  
"I really do love you," Dawn said, kissing him back. "Please don't let me down. Please don't let me let you down."  
  
"Never," Brian breathed, stroking her hair and feeling her relax into his arms. "Now go get ready so we can spread the good news."  
  
Dawn sat bolt upright in his arms. "Oh shit! We're going to be *so* late." ~~~~~~~~  
  
Spike walked down the final step and rounded the corner towards the kitchen, still fastening his belt and grumbling that Buffy insisted on pressed black slacks and a royal blue button down for him, rather than his usual jeans and a T-Shirt.  
  
Anything to make her happy.  
  
He stood for a moment in the doorway, watching her washing up dishes and cleaning up the mess he'd made cooking. He'd fully intended on tidying up before the guests arrived, but had gotten sidetracked moving all the furniture in the living room and dining room so they could set up tables big enough to accommodate them all.  
  
Still, she was so beautiful to watch, her blonde hair lit golden by the late afternoon sunshine, her loose dress flowing around her knees, her small frame moving gracefully as she reached up to put away dishes. So much power in such a tiny package. So much beauty.  
  
Finally, he tore himself away from the vision, walking up behind her silently and wrapping his arms around her. She jumped at first, so distracted by her cleaning that she hadn't felt him coming. But soon she melted, leaning back into his chest.  
  
"See I'm still good for a bit of scaring now and again," he chuckled, nuzzling her hair and kissing her softly. "Would have tidied up after I'd gotten dressed."  
  
"It's no problem. I was ready and you. it was like the Hellmouth moved to under our kitchen," she answered, her hands trailing up and down his long thighs.  
  
"Made a mess, did I?"  
  
She laughed. "Worlds of mess."  
  
"Have to make it up to you later, then," he purred, kissing her ear. Her eyes closed, her nerves firing and something low and tight and very pleasant warming her to the core.  
  
"Hmmm," she hummed, rubbing up against him. "Can't wait."  
  
His hands moved softly up her bare legs, pulling her skirt up with them, feeling the silky smoothness of her thighs under his palms and wanting to call the whole party off just to explore those pretty tight legs all evening long. Judging by her warmth and the pounding of her heart, he could feel she wasn't far from the same thought.  
  
"Want you," he whispered, his blunt teeth grazing her neck.  
  
Buffy hummed again, her backside rubbing deliciously against the front of his pants. "They'll be here any minute."  
  
"A minute won't do," Spike purred again, his tongue darting out and tasting her skin. A small moan escaped her lips. "Take me all night to even begin to give you what you deserve."  
  
"You've already given me more than I deserve," Buffy whispered, taking one of his hands from her thigh and sliding it sensuously over the silk of her dress and resting his palm to her belly.  
  
He smiled into her skin, pride and joy filling him. "Can feel her," Spike whispered, his mouth still dangerously close to her ear.  
  
Buffy tensed. "I'm not showing yet."  
  
"No, Pet," Spike answered, barely noticing the slight thickening of her waist and the little swell in her belly that hadn't even grown enough for her clothes to become tight. But he knew it was there. Felt it every night to be sure of it. His palm rubbed softly. "But I can feel her in you."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and smiled, resting against him. "It is a girl this time."  
  
"Know, Love," Spike answered, his lips pressing to her cheek. "Another beauty to wrap me round her little finger."  
  
She chuckled, her hand over his. "Spike, I'm. I."  
  
"You deserve her, Pet. We'll love her more than any two people could. Just how it is round here. No doubts. No worries. Just be happy, all right?"  
  
Buffy smiled again, his hand pressing tighter, more protectively, over her stomach. "I am," she answered. "I just. we don't even know her and I love her so much already."  
  
"S'posed to, Love. Like the others. S'your job to protect her now, and mine to protect you."  
  
She turned in his arms to face him. "You know, you're sort of growing on me."  
  
He smiled, smirking at her. "More like growing *in* you."  
  
"That too," Buffy giggled.  
  
"Ready to tell the rest? Rupert assured me he hasn't told a soul," Spike asked, brushing her long hair over her shoulders and kissing her forehead.  
  
"So ready," Buffy answered. "This secret thing? Not so easy."  
  
"Best that you waited to see what the doctor said," Spike confirmed, cupping her backside in his hands. "Not that I don't trust Red."  
  
She nodded her agreement. "I knew. You knew. Willow said. But until the test."  
  
"You did the right thing," Spike agreed, kissing the worry lines from her brow. "But you can tell them tonight, Love."  
  
She smiled, nodding. "Thank you."  
  
"For what?" He asked, returning the smile, his eyes dancing with curiosity.  
  
"This. You. Us. Her," she answered, her hand finding its way between them and over her belly. "Just. everything."  
  
"You're the one I should be thanking. For giving the 'fangy soulless beast' a chance."  
  
Laughter erupted from her throat. "I can't believe I ever said that."  
  
"Which time?" Spike snarked, ducking the jab tossed at his arm. "Let me finish cleaning up," he chuckled. "Tots probably need a little help getting ready."  
  
Buffy nodded. "Where are they?"  
  
Spike sighed. "Emma's in the bathroom, primping like her mum, and Will's running round without his shirt, refusing to wear anything but that silly T- shirt."  
  
"Sound familiar?" Buffy laughed, ducking under Spike's arm and bolting out of the room.  
  
"Bint," he chuckled, starting to put pans in the cupboards. "My girl." ~~~~~~~~  
  
Anya called down the stairs, her voice loud and clear. "Rupie, phone's for you."  
  
Giles looked up towards the sound, registering what she was saying, and then leaned over from his dark leather chair and picked up the cordless. "Got it," he called back.  
  
"Keep it short," Anya called back. "We're almost ready and we're running late as it is."  
  
"Yes, dear," Giles called back, turning his attention to the phone. "Hello?"  
  
"Mr. Giles," a vaguely familiar voice came crackling over the wires.  
  
Giles furrowed his brow, thinking. Then it hit him. "Althea? My dear, how are you? How is the work with the Coven?"  
  
There was a long silence before the voice returned. "Mr. Giles, there is no time for catching up now."  
  
His face slackened at the desperate tone in her voice. "What. what is it, Althea?"  
  
"We've come across some writings. A prophesy."  
  
"Oh?" Giles asked, his voice rising in curiosity. "In regard to the Peacemaker?"  
  
"Indirectly," Althea answered, her voice metered and cold. "About the One. A child of the One."  
  
Giles stopped, stunned. No, it can't be. "Emma? William?"  
  
"The one that is yet to be," Althea answered, her voice breaking up. "It could be bad, Rupert."  
  
He was silent, listening to her talk, his heart dropping in his chest at every word. She couldn't know. How? What? The words she spoke were daggers through his heart, the thought of Buffy, of Spike, the child he knew that she was carrying, weighing heavy on his mind.  
  
"Are you sure?" He finally said, his voice cracking as he took his glasses off, wiping them nervously.  
  
"I will transmit the prophesy to Willow. Tonight. Midnight. If I were you, I would keep this between the two of you until you've sussed out its accuracy."  
  
"I assure you, we will," Giles responded, his heart now in his stomach, his mind reeling.  
  
"Midnight, Mr. Giles."  
  
"Of course."  
  
The phone crackled. And died.  
  
To be contd. 


	9. Holiday Bondage Part One

Good evening, All(  
  
Whew! I made it! I have to thank my *awesome* betas for their twenty four hour turn around time on this chapter. Amazing, I tell you! Alane, Pat, Linds, Carrie and Cindy, you *totally* rock! And yes, it takes that many to clean up my typos! So, thank them too, if you like the story.  
  
This is part one of a two or three part look at one particular Thanksgiving at the Windsor house. I am toying with the idea of sticking a rated chapter in this section, but you'll have to beg ;)  
  
So, I do hope you enjoy this and *please* let me know how you feel!  
  
Have a great week!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*,  
  
Nimue  
  
Title: Holiday Bondage - Part One (Chapter Nine of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: Turkey Day at the Windsor house. Part one of a two or three part chapter which *might* include some rated material. We shall see. Giles tells Willow of Althea's phone call and they develop a plan to intercept the prophesy.  
  
Holiday Bondage - Part One  
  
Xander and Takina arrived at the front walk of the familiar abode on Revello at exactly the same time as Willow and her family. They stopped for hugs and kisses, showering each other in the affection of lifelong friendship. It was as if it had been years since they'd last met, rather than just a few days. This is how a holiday *should* be.  
  
Laughter bubbled from inside the house. The now familiar, happy sound of Buffy. A noise that they had not heard nearly enough of as they grew up, but were now blessed with at nearly every meeting. Internally, in some little part of his mind, Xander still cringed that he could never make her sound like that. That it was a Vampire who had finally set her free by binding himself to her. But that sound. That clear, bell-like laughter followed by the shrill, high-pitched giggles of her children, was worth any price he had to pay, real or imaginary.  
  
"Wonder what's going on in there?" Oz questioned, an infectious grin on his face.  
  
"With Buffy, it's hard to tell. I mean, she could be reveling in the joy of demon slaughter, or she could just be playing with the kids," Willow pointed out as they reached the doorstep.  
  
"Well, guess we're with the demony goodness or the family romp," Xander commented. "Not sure which is of the worst." He reached for the knob, a grin spreading across his face. Takina batted him with one hand as she held River to her hip with the other. Xander cringed dramatically, still smiling as he turned the door knob, stepping in with the whole crew in tow.  
  
The scene in the dining room was a tableau that had them all guffawing within seconds. Buffy was barely holding herself up against the kitchen door frame, tears streaming down her face as she watched the scene unfold.  
  
Spike sat, smirking all the while, as Emma and Will tied him to a dining room chair. Running circles around him like some partially living maypole, giggling insanely as they secured little knots and made sure the ropes were snug and tight all over their father.  
  
Xander broke first, wiping tears from his face and warding off the evil- Vampire-glare-of-slow-and-painful-exsanguinations. "Bu.Buffy, did you *tell* them to do that?" He choked out.  
  
She shook her head in response, hand over her stomach, still laughing so hard that she could not speak as Emma secured a knot around Spike's arm.  
  
"Okay," Takina began, smiling just because of the reaction of the others. "Not sure I'm quite getting the joke. Not that Spike tied to furniture isn't funny."  
  
"'Nuf out of you," Spike snapped half-heartedly, barely concealing his own grin. "Don't see you sacrificing your bloody dignity to be the entertainment."  
  
"It. It is kinda funny," Tara agreed. Spike feigned shock and horror at the kind witch's allegiance to the dark side. She blushed, looking away but still grinning uncontrollably.  
  
"Easy fang-boy. Just bringing back a memory or two," Xander chided, eliciting a growl from Spike and a quick tug at the restraints. "Good times," the man continued. "Good times."  
  
"And back to the inside joke?" Takina reminded as Buffy made her way over to the group, still giggling hysterically.  
  
Will separated himself from the festivities just long enough to run up to Takina and look her square in the eye. Well, as square as he could from three feet below. His little arms reached up towards her and River. "Mine," he said confidently, making both Buffy and Takina laugh harder and Xander growl, much in the manner of the bound Vampire. Spike raised an eyebrow in satisfaction while Takina loosed River, handing her over to Will who promptly took her little hand and led her back to the real festivities.  
  
"You see," Buffy chuckled, "It's kind of a family tradition."  
  
"Nothin' says Turkey Day like Spike tied to a chair," Willow interjected, causing another growl from Spike.  
  
"Back in the good old days," Xander began, roughly composing himself, "when Spike wasn't of the neutered."  
  
"Hey!" Spike contradicted, serious this time. "I'll have you know that Buffy and I."  
  
"Spike," Buffy warned, all humour slipping from her voice.  
  
Spike sighed. Only right to let her handle the news her way, even if it meant verbal castration by the whelp. Internally, he thought of ways to get the git back once the announcement had been made.  
  
"Anyway," Xander continued, baiting Spike further by winking his victory at Buffy's support, "back in those blessed, blessed good old days, Spike spent a lot of time tied to things."  
  
"And chained," Willow added gleefully. "Don't forget the chainage."  
  
"Oh, of course not," Xander agreed, nodding sagely. "Captain Peroxide over here spent a couple of Thanksgivings tied to chairs."  
  
Takina quirked an eyebrow. "Um, any particular reason? Or was it religious. Like a Christmas tree?"  
  
Buffy giggled, a naughty little thought of Spike being decorated with various edible ornaments making her woozy all over again.  
  
"Well, we were sort of against the idea of becoming his main course," Xander answered, sarcasm biting through his amusement.  
  
"Wouldn't have bitten you anyway, Whelp," Spike commented as the kids tied his legs. "Just because I'm a creature of the night doesn't mean I've got no taste."  
  
Xander smirked, turning back to Takina and Buffy. "Got any gags handy?"  
  
"As a matter of fact."Buffy began, thinking more of her naughty little fantasy than gagging him for public purposes.  
  
"Don't even think 'bout it, Goldilocks," Spike snarled at his beloved, getting a kittenish grin in response.  
  
River began to climb up Spike's legs as if on her father's cue, sticking her pacifier in his mouth and causing the already amused extended family to erupt into gales of laughter yet again. Even Spike had to chuckle from behind the baby's prized possession. Well, that is if one didn't include Will as River's most prized possession.  
  
"What's going on?" An amused, female voice asked from the doorway. Before anyone could hazard a glance back, the voice continued. "Oh, must be Thanksgiving," and strolled nonchalantly past the group and into the kitchen. Very little fazed Anya anymore.  
  
A nervous smile flitted across Giles' face, but it barely hid his distraction. "Shall I find a novelty mug?"  
  
Buffy laughed again, walking over to her lover and starting to peel wily children from his limbs and extricating River's pacifier from his lips, replacing it quickly with her own. "You're being a good sport," she whispered against his soft skin.  
  
"Have to make it up to me later, Pet." He smiled against her lips, making her grin wider.  
  
"Keep the ropes handy then," she commented with a saucy smile and sauntered away, leaving Spike dangerously close to being embarrassingly happy about his humiliation. Quickly, he changed his thought processes, banishing thoughts of Buffy tied right and proper to the bed post and replacing the grin with a smirk.  
  
"Can't a bloke get untied round here?"  
  
The crowd looked at each other for a moment, then to Spike, and began to file out of the room, shrugging and giggling.  
  
"Hey!"  
  
Tara couldn't keep it up and walked back to the captive Vampire as the rest dispersed around the house. She began to untie him with delicate ease, trying not to giggle too loudly. But Spike's own laughter made it hard for her to avoid.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Slowly, he turned the knob and walked outside onto the front porch. Willow was sitting on the top step, watching the kids play in the grass on the front lawn. She was alone, at least for the moment, and the Watcher thought it his best opportunity to approach her without causing alarm in the others. Giles sighed, thinking it wasn't fair to upset her Thanksgiving as his had been. But there was no time left to wait.  
  
"Oh, hey Giles," Willow chirped as her mentor sat down on the step next to her, eyes trained on the children, but mind obviously elsewhere.  
  
"Willow," the Watcher answered, nodding at the slowly setting sun. Not looking at her. He couldn't look at her. He felt like all he ever brought to them was bad news.  
  
"What's with the pouty face?" She asked, furrowing her brow. "You're supposed to be all up with the celebrate-y goodness! Thanksgiving is like. it's like the gateway to lots of present-y holidays. And that's always of the good. Besides, Spike cooked most of dinner, not Buffy, so we should be safe and."  
  
"Willow," Giles repeated, this time turning his head to face her. Her red hair blew around her face in the slight autumn breeze and she looked like a child again. Like she had when they had met.  
  
She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry. I guess I get a little excited. The kids make it *so* cool again."  
  
Despite his concerns, Giles had to smile at that. Having children did have a way of restoring the joy to the holiday season. "It is rather nice with them around," he commented quietly. "But, unfortunately, we have other concerns to contend with."  
  
Again, Willow furrowed her brow, her smile fading. "Not to be all concerned about the concerns, but can't it wait until tomorrow? I kinda like my apocalypses on a full stomach."  
  
"I'm afraid it can't," Giles answered ruefully.  
  
Willow sighed heavily, her attention on the playing kids. "How come I knew you would say that?" She paused a moment, taking another long breath. "So, what's the big badness?"  
  
The Watcher wrung his hands, raising his face to the waning sunlight. "Spike told me about Buffy's. condition."  
  
"I know! Isn't it great? I mean, who would've thought that.."  
  
"Willow," Giles interrupted, reclaiming her attention. The beaming smile slid from the Witch's face and her heart picked up its pace.  
  
"Giles, what is it? What's wrong?" Her voice became nervous. Shaky.  
  
The Watcher closed his eyes and swallowed, opening them slowly. "I don't know that anything is wrong quite yet," he began, watching the kids rather than looking at Willow's nervous face.  
  
"Then what?" She asked, her voice picking up speed to match her heart. "I mean, you have to have. you have to have come to me all scaredy faced for a reason."  
  
"I did," Giles responded, searching for the words. There was a pregnant pause as he thought of the least alarmist thing to say. "I received a call from Althea just before I came here today."  
  
"Is she all right? The Coven?" Willow asked nervously.  
  
"Fine, fine," Giles reassured. "But she told me that they had come across a prophesy. One which pertains to the destruction of the One at the hands of their own child."  
  
Willow's eyes opened wide, her mind reeling. "Emma? Will?" The sounds were more like choked gasps than words.  
  
Giles lay a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I asked the same thing," he responded, taking off his glasses and rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But Althea responded, quite clearly, that it was the one yet to be."  
  
A small gasp escaped the redhead's lips. "How. How did they know?"  
  
"Their seer. Not to mention that the child of a Vampire and the Slayer, a child of the One, must affect the energies of the World. Something the Coven would likely pick up on. They want to transmit the prophesy to you tonight, at midnight, so that we can take a look at it ourselves and determine the best course of action. Or. or if it even applies to them," Giles said, his voice laced with hope.  
  
Willow tried to smile, sharing that hope. "They could be wrong, you know. And besides. Buffy, she's not good with the whole prophesy thing. Hates 'em. Does her best to screw them up."  
  
Giles chuckled, squeezing the girl's shoulder. "Will you do it?"  
  
"Sure," she answered, her voice still a little thready. " I mean, maybe they're wrong, right? Like, the prophesy is about the child of the Gunn and not the One, or something."  
  
"They could be," Giles answered unconvincingly. "Willow, I think it best that we keep this between us until we know more about the situation. Frightening Buffy, after all she went through carrying William to term."  
  
Willow mimed zipping her lips and tossing away the key. "Believe me, the *last* thing I want to do is tell Buffy." There was a pause as she composed her thoughts. "They want me someplace in particular?"  
  
"Here," Giles commented. "We'll send the rest home and Buffy out to patrol with Spike. We should be able to receive the information quite quickly."  
  
Willow nodded her understanding. Giles stood, straightening and squinting out at the last rays of the sun.  
  
"Everything's going to be okay, right? I mean with Buffy's baby? Because when you feel that, Giles. feel that inside of you. nothing will stop you from protecting your baby. From falling madly in love." The concern in Willow's voice was palpable. The emotion pouring out like tears.  
  
Giles nodded. "I don't know, Willow. I'd love to say that we can expect a trouble free addition to what has become a lovely family." He paused, rubbing the bridge of his nose again and then sliding his glasses back into position. "But I can't."  
  
Tears welled behind the redhead's eyes. "Could the Prophesy be wrong?"  
  
The older man laid a hand on her shoulder once again, smiling compassionately. "If anyone knows how to confound a prophesy, it's Buffy." A fragile smile broke on Willow's face. "Try not to worry too much. We should know more tonight."  
  
"Tonight," Willow repeated, returning her eyes to the children playing under the setting sun.  
  
To be contd. 


	10. Holiday Bondage Part Two

Good, evening, All!  
  
YAY! Made it again! My betas so rock, as I just gave this to them Sunday!  
  
So, as many of you have found out (and joined) I started a new Yahoo group for rated chapters of my fic. Go check out HowtoMakeaVampireSundae, at Yahoo groups to join! I think we will kick off next week with a rated chapter.  
  
For those of you sticking to the PG-13 version, you'll be getting a short chapter next week. For those of you who want the Vamp Smut, you'll be getting an *extra* long one. Only to be found on the new group!  
  
Hope you all have a great week. Let me know how you feel!  
  
*Cheery Vibes*,  
  
Nimue  
  
Title: Holiday Bondage - Part Two (Chapter Ten of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG -13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: Turkey Day at the Windsor house. Part two of what I think will be a three part chapter which *might* include some rated material (if you pervs chime in). We shall see. Dinner is concluding and there are some expected announcements made. And some not so expected..  
  
Holiday Bondage - Part Two  
  
"Buffy," Anya began leaning back in her chair, hands folded over her flat stomach. "That was actually.good."  
  
"Anya!" Giles growled quickly, flashing a fragile smile at Buffy.  
  
Spike chuckled under his breath, getting a swift kick to the shins from his beloved. "Learned a thing or two of late, my girl," he commented, smiling at Anya. Buffy tried to be insulted, but could only barely cover her own smile.  
  
"Seriously, Buff, that was excellent," Xander commented, unbuttoning his pants and leaning into the arm draped over the back of his chair. Takina rubbed the back of his neck as he nearly purred in sated bliss.  
  
"Thanks," the hostess answered, somewhat sarcastically. "I think."  
  
"More wine anyone?" Giles asked, lifting the carafe from its spot near his place setting.  
  
"Think it's time we moved on to scotch," Cyrus replied, a grin breaking on his face.  
  
"Second that," Spike chimed in. "Anyone else?"  
  
Everyone put in their drink orders to Spike as Buffy cleared the plates from the table and checked in on the kids who were all playing quietly in what was normally the dining room. Usually quiet denoted something dastardly about to happen, but, in this case, they were all so stuffed that they could do nothing but make up imaginary worlds and crawl around the floor to act them out.  
  
It wasn't long before they were all gathered back around the table, laughing and talking over a few drinks. Catching up on the more mundane parts of life, which, to this particular group, were the out of the ordinary bits. After spending a lifetime chasing Vampires and Demons and various and sundry other beasties, preschool and PTA and clothing sales, and how Man U was faring this year sounded like things that might be found in one of Giles' dusty old tomes.  
  
As conversation waned, Buffy looked at Spike, her eyes a bit dewy. He could feel her in his head. Ready. It was her time to give them all something happy. Something to look forward to.  
  
Spike smiled at her, standing and tapping his dessert fork against his glass. "Quiet down, you lot of braggarts," he joked, smirking at the group. "Seems that we have an announcement or two to make."  
  
Dawn looked at Brian, eyes huge. She'd been careful to hide her left hand under the table. She'd thought of taking the ring off so she didn't slip up, but it felt so good there. So right. How could he know? He couldn't know!  
  
Buffy stood up next to him as the rest quieted down. Spike snaked an arm behind her, feeling the silk of her dress under his palm, inflaming the desire that she'd raised when she released him from his bonds. He fought against it with the same passion he intended to use on her later.  
  
"Um," Buffy began, a rosy colour flooding her cheeks. "I mean, around here, it really isn't that big an announcement."  
  
"Hey, now!" Spike corrected, sounding genuinely hurt.  
  
"No, no," she went on. "I mean, it's *huge* to us, but may not be all shock-inducing to you."  
  
"Out with it, Buff," Xander said, smiling up at her from his chair. Buffy looked at Willow and she smiled as well, nodding. Spike gave her a squeeze around the waist and prompted her back to life.  
  
"Well," she began again, still rosy and beautiful and even a bit shy. "Um. Well, Spike and I are.."  
  
"Are.," Dawn repeated, getting annoyed with her sister's delay. Patience had never been a virtue.  
  
Spike decided it was time to bail her out. "Seems we're going to have another tot."  
  
Eyes grew wide a moment, as mutters of "how?" and "ohmygod" and almost involuntary stares shot at her flat, toned stomach.  
  
Finally, it was Dawn again that asked. "When?"  
  
"About. seven months?" Buffy asked, looking over at Spike.  
  
"Six months, twenty four days, by my count," he answered quite seriously. Buffy's heart warmed at his excitement and she pushed herself up on her toes to kiss him softly.  
  
"A third one?" Cyrus asked jovially, then let his head flop to the table.  
  
"Yay!" Willow squeaked, running round the table and throwing her arms around the both of them. "Yay, yay, yay!" She knew that she was overcompensating for knowing before any of them, but she expected, in her own mind, that she was doing it even more so because of the terror this Prophesy brought to her mind.  
  
"I agree with her," Tara said, her face alight with joy , and nodding at her mate. "With the YAY!"  
  
"I think we all do," Takina chimed in. "That's wonderful, Buffy!"  
  
"I get another niece!" Dawn sing-songed as she made her way round the table to her sis.  
  
"How do you know it'll be a girl?" Buffy asked, wrapping her arms around her sister.  
  
Spike chuckled. "Be my luck. Nother Summers girl to tie me in knots."  
  
Both Buffy and Dawn smirked at him. Emma would have joined in had she not been stretched out on the floor of the dining room playing with the others.  
  
After congratulations had been made, and hugs and kisses given, and all were safely back in their seats, Dawn nervously stared over at Brian. "Should we?" She mouthed.  
  
He nodded in response. "They'll be upset if you wait until Christmas," he answered, leaning over and kissing her cheek.  
  
"You first," she prodded, sticking a fork in his side. Surprise poured over the boy. This was *her* family and she was throwing him to the wolves?  
  
Then again, if he was going to marry her, it'd be his family too. Like it had become for Takina. And no one had eaten her for lunch yet. Besides, he could do the same at Brian's parent's, where they were headed for coffee afterwards, and toss the onus onto her.  
  
Slowly, with shaking legs, the handsome boy stood, hitting his fork on the crystal too softly to hear. Dawn shook her head and whacked it one from her seat, drawing the attention of the crowd back to the tall, lean, man that was newest to the tribe.  
  
"I.we.I." Brian stuttered, looking over the attentive faces, particularly the protective, blonde *Vampire* with his arm slung casually over the sister of his beloved. Terror grabbed his heart in unkind waves. A nudge from Dawn under the table prodded him to go on. If he was going to marry this girl, to whom the supernatural was only natural, he was going to have to get used to bearing up under the pressure of knowing that a few of them could eat him for lunch.  
  
A deep breath and he mustered up just enough courage to go on. "We. Dawn and I. have an announcement to make as well."  
  
"Oh, cool! What is it?" Willow chimed cheerfully, trying to help the boy along.  
  
"Indeed," Giles contributed, affecting an interested gaze. "Curiosity is getting the better of me."  
  
Spike just glared, one eyebrow twitching.  
  
"Um.Dawn and I. you see, I'm very much in love with her. I have been since the moment I saw her. I mean, she's. everything. Sweet and kind and strong and stubborn," Brian began again.  
  
"And whiney," Xander joked, ducking the olive that was tossed his way by the girl in question.  
  
Brian chuckled. "Sometimes that." Dawn kicked him under the table, a smile on her face. "But I love her, even with her faults and her perfections. And I'm pretty sure she loves me even with mine."  
  
Dawn smiled up at him adoringly, her eyes starting to tear. "I do," she whispered, making him grin back at her with a love that almost rivaled Spike's love for her sister.  
  
"To the chase," Buffy prodded sweetly, leaning forward in her chair with interest, Spike's hand now splayed along her back.  
  
"To the chase," Brian repeated. "Well, this morning, I."  
  
"He asked me to marry him!" Dawn squealed, jumping up next to him and jutting her hand across the table at Buffy, jumping up and down in place.  
  
An audible gasp went through the group. They knew that she had been living with him for over a year now, but she was the baby of the original generation. None of them had seen it, even fathomed it coming. Even now that she was in her twenties. "Married?" Buffy said uneasily.  
  
"You know, the thing with the white dress and the girls in the other colour dresses with the flowers and the food and rings." Dawn snarked, nothing able to spoil her high.  
  
"Wow," Buffy repeated. "Married."  
  
It took a moment for it to sink in, but Tara did the honours and made it easier for the poor, sweating boy at the table. "Brian, Dawn, I think . I think it's great!. You. You really seem to make each other happy. So, I'm happy for you." She rose from her seat and made her elegant way to the excited girl, wrapping her arms around her tightly.  
  
Willow followed suit. "It's wonderful, Dawnie! Yay you! What with the married and the. wow."  
  
Xander stood, making his way to Brian, shaking the boy's hand. "Congrats. You know, she's like my little sister and if you do anything. I mean, anything."  
  
"Xan," Takina warned, hugging Brian. "They're a little hard to break into at first, but you'll be fine," she whispered as she held him, causing him to relax.  
  
They all flooded round the couple, congratulating and hugging. Finally, Buffy made it to her sister.  
  
"You know you'd better hold off until I have this baby," Buffy commented, barely holding back her smile. "I don't want to look like the Great Pumpkin in my dress."  
  
Dawn smiled, tears running down her face. "What makes you think you'll be a bridesmaid?" Dawn snarked, making Buffy laugh through the tears. "June okay? Give you a couple months to de-puff."  
  
Buffy rubbed her belly thoughtfully. "Think I can do it. I'm getting older, but still the Slayer with the healing."  
  
They hugged, arms tight around each other, tears cascading down their faces in happy rivers. Another wife. Another mother. It was amazing to them at this point that either of them had made it this far.  
  
It took a moment before Dawn pulled away, heart beginning to sink into her belly. "Where. Where's Spike?"  
  
Buffy turned around, scanning the group around Brian and the few standing in the entry hall. She closed her eyes. Should have known he would *not* take this well. "I know where he is," she whispered, turning towards the kitchen.  
  
A hand on her shoulder stopped her. "Buffy, I need to do this," Dawn whispered, turning her sister back around.  
  
"Dawnie, it's likely that he. He's not good with the losing a girl kinda thing," she commented in return. "Probably a little fangy grr."  
  
"I can handle him," Dawn whispered, heading perilously for the kitchen. "I hope," she whispered to herself.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Spike prowled the dimly lit back porch like a jungle cat, muscles tight and ready to fire. A red ember at the tip of his cigarette glowed and lessened with each long draw. He didn't smoke much anymore. But he hid a pack in the corner flower pot for emergencies and times of great stress.  
  
This was one of them.  
  
He was so preoccupied in his thoughts that he didn't hear the door open. Didn't hear her expensive heels click onto the wooden deck behind him. Didn't notice her at all until he heard her voice.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He spun, completely taken aback, part of him melting at the sight of the girl, arms wrapped around herself in the cold, looking afraid and alone. The other part of him *seething* with anger that she'd let another man take her away. That she would do it without telling him first. That she. that he wasn't so important anymore.  
  
"What?" He snapped defensively. "Shouldn't you be in there soaking up the congratulatory bit?"  
  
"Brian's got it under control," Dawn answered, moving a step closer.  
  
Spike backed up imperceptibly, anger and hurt raging inside of him. How could he have let himself. how could he mean so little now to the girl he practically *raised*.  
  
"Spike," Dawn breathed, feeling a tinge of guilt. "I know we should have told you before, but there wasn't any *time*."  
  
"Bloody well *right*, you should have," Spike growled. "Isn't it still polite to ask for a girl's hand in marriage?"  
  
"You didn't," Dawn countered, getting a little ticked herself. "Then again, what you and Buffy do isn't ever questioned is it? I mean, you're *The One* and all."  
  
Spike sighed, slouching back against the railing and lighting up a smoke. "Didn't have a father worth asking," he countered. "Would've asked your mum."  
  
"I know," Dawn said, softening. "And I'm sorry," she continued, moving next to him and gesturing for his smoke.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow at her and she took it from him anyway. "Only when I'm stressed," she commented, taking a long drag and returning it to him. "Don't tell Buffy."  
  
"You can get cancer you know," Spike lectured. "And yellow teeth."  
  
"So could you. now," she countered, smiling a bit. He closed his eyes and hung his head, shaking it.  
  
"Still don't get why you didn't tell me, Lil' Bit. Mean, you and I. we were always."  
  
"You were like my dad," Dawn muttered, shivering. "Well, better. And younger. And hotter."  
  
"Don't let your sis hear you say that. Hormones and all. Likely to slay you," Spike snarked, taking off his dinner jacket and draping it over the girl's shoulders.  
  
"Jealous, much?" Dawn joked. "Both of you?"  
  
"Works for us, Niblet," Spike answered. "Keeps us together sometimes."  
  
"I know," Dawn answered, pulling the jacket tighter around her shoulders and sighing. "I am sorry I didn't say anything to you first."  
  
Spike nodded, taking a long pull from his cigarette. "'Spose I'll get over it eventually."  
  
"Would this help?" Dawn asked, turning to face him. A quizzical look passed over his features as she stared at him doe eyed and looking like the little girl that used to live in the room down the hall. "Spike, you're right. I don't have a father worth telling. So I. I. I would be honoured if you would walk me down the aisle."  
  
The Vampire's eyes opened in utter shock. Figured it'd be Giles, like it had been with Buffy. But the sincere look on her face, the tears beginning to fall in streams down her cheeks told him it was him. It'd always been him. A swell of pride spread through him like white fire.  
  
"I'd be honoured," he finally answered, nodding his head politely at the girl.  
  
Dawn crawled into his arms as she had done when she was a scared child, burying herself in his chest and breathing in the smells that were Spike. The safety and love and even the strength and the violence. She loved him because of it all and despite it.  
  
He pulled her tighter against him, cradling her against his shoulder and sighing, kissing her forehead. "You know I'm still a bit put out."  
  
Dawn smiled against his chest. "I know. "  
  
"Should have told me."  
  
"I know."  
  
"Good."  
  
There was a long pause, before she spoke again. "Be happy for me, Spike. Please be happy for me. Brian makes me so . I love him."  
  
"I am, Niblet," Spike whispered, kissing her forehead once again. "Just'll take a little getting used to."  
  
It was early when Xander and Takina left, as well as Dawn and Brian. With two families to visit, they could only stay for part of the evening in any one place.  
  
It was okay. They were all worn out from the excitement anyway.  
  
Willow, Tara and Oz stayed for a while, with Giles and Anya and Cyrus. Willow and Giles eyed each other all night, wondering how they could empty the house before midnight.  
  
Suddenly, an opportunity presented itself when Giles's cell phone rang. He hated the contraption, but as head of the Watcher's Council, U.S. branch, he had to be contactable at all times.  
  
The group was quiet as Giles uttered "yes's" and "no's" into the phone, nodding and sighing and shaking his head.  
  
Finally, he ended with "Yes. I'll have them look into it."  
  
At that, both Buffy and Spike perked up. A little violence might be just what they needed to wind down.  
  
Giles snapped the phone closed, looking at the couple. "Seems there's a bit of a demon problem in a warehouse by the pier. One of our informants advised us that it hasn't made a move on any humans yet, but it's sacrificing animals nightly and seems to be getting progressively more powerful. I think it's a good idea if you check into it."  
  
"Right," Spike said, nodding and heading towards the door, Buffy on his heels.  
  
"It's a slime demon," Giles interjected, as they hit the landing, causing them both to look at their clothes, each other and run up the stairs to change and grab weapons.  
  
It wasn't long before The One was out of the house, stopping to kiss both kids good night. Giles sent Anya home with Randy, Cyrus escorting them. Tara and Oz knew something else was going on, but knew better than to ask. They offered to take Emma and Will back to their flat and bring them back in the morning.  
  
Willow and Giles both sighed with relief at the inherent understanding, and the rest were out of the house.  
  
"So, what now?" Willow asked, biting her nails and staring at her mentor.  
  
"Basement," Giles answered, locking the doors and turning out the lights. "And we wait."  
  
To be contd. 


	11. Holiday Bondage Part Three

Good evening, Everyone!  
  
Well, I thought that those of you who were reading the PG-13 only chapter would be getting a little shafted (hey, keep your dirty minds to yourselves!) this week, but it turns out that I was just a font of Peacemaker write-ability and managed to churn out a super, extra long chapter! So, the PG-13 material alone is 10 pages.  
  
The other 14 are unadulterated SMUT and can only be found on How to Make a Vampire Sundae ( ) . I will not be sending out the rated version in word docs this time. Gotta be a member to get the goods!  
  
However, even if you're not into the naughty, I tried to make the story itself progress and I'd love to know what you think!  
  
Please give it a read and let me know!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: Holiday Bondage - Part Three (Chapter Eleven of Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: Turkey Day at the Windsor house. Part three of Holiday Bondage, giving the name of the chapter new meaning. Willow and Giles receive the Prophesy. Spike and Buffy are dispatched to contend with a slime demon, and do a little fighting. of a different sort.  
  
Holiday Bondage - Part Three  
  
"Shouldn't you have a pen or something?" Willow asked, settling herself within the ring of candles that she'd created in the now furnished basement of the Windsor house. Could never seem to have enough room for guests, or ritual magic, she mused.  
  
"Right, right," Giles muttered, pulling open a drawer under the phone extension, and procuring a pad that read 'A Happy Home is One Full of Love.' He groaned at the sentiment, hoping that Buffy had bought it on a whim, but knowing that Spike was most likely the culprit.  
  
"While you're at it, maybe a camera or video or something," Willow said, thoughtfully.  
  
Giles furrowed his brow. "You want me to document a magical ritual for you? On film?"  
  
Willow smiled. "No, doofus. I'm just sayin' that we don't know how this is going to come across, right? I mean, what if it's like a zillion pages of Swahili? You think you're up to writing it all down?"  
  
"Hmm," Giles said, heading over to the entertainment center. "You've got a rather good point."  
  
"Always thinkin'," she joked, making herself comfortable, her legs crossed in front of her. The Watcher grabbed a new, state of the art, video camera off the console and fiddled with it until the red button was alight.  
  
"The Council needs to look into their salaries," he mused, looking over the high tech gadget with appreciation.  
  
"Yeah, because it's possible to overpay people for continuously saving the World while going through Hell," Willow countered.  
  
Suddenly, the lights around her began to flicker and she jumped a bit, feeling a cold chill sweep up her back. "Uh, Giles. Make with the ready because I think it's coming."  
  
Before he even had a chance to answer, her eyes turned a glowing white, her hair flying back from her face as a wind came from nowhere, sealed only in the magical circle. He watched as her face transformed; a mixture of pleasure and pain, and her hands clenched tight at her sides.  
  
"The connection is made," an otherworldly voice said from Willow's ruby lips. A deeper, more powerful voice than the girl he'd just been bantering with. "The Prophesy will be transmitted."  
  
The Watcher mustered up the courage to speak. "How, may I ask?"  
  
Willow's eyes flickered and then an explosion of white light rocked her, emanating from her pupils. Her mouth opened in a wide smile and light poured from her every feature, slamming audibly into the blank, white wall across from her.  
  
"I see," Giles muttered, clicking on the video recorder and turning his attention from Willow to the blank wall.  
  
Pictures began to flash against the paint. Almost like cave paintings. A woman heavy with child. A Vampire with a look of love and wonder on his face, rather than hunger. Another of the same woman giving birth. The others. The children. The Mother and Father. Pictures of the child, a girl, growing. And then something stopped. Something happened.  
  
A huge gap in time and a painting of the child stalking her parents. Alone. Afraid. As if it was not her will that she enacted. Then her killing them both, with her bare hands, stunned looks upon their loving faces.  
  
The pictures stopped and a deluge of ancient runes flew across the wall, almost too fast to see. Pieces of words he picked up along the way. A story. The next generation of the same tale, once writing replaced art. Did this mean that there was another time that the One was united? One between the First and today?  
  
A question for another time.  
  
The story continued, flashing its horrors across the Windsors' walls like an ancient tragedy coming to life again. The hairs on the back of the Watcher's neck stood on end. He wasn't even sure he could read this language accurately.  
  
But he knew someone who could.  
  
Suddenly, the wall became. just a wall again. There was a gasp and Giles turned just in time to see the light be absorbed back into the Witch's body, and the wind fade away. The candles flickered out.  
  
"Willow?" Giles asked, running over to the circle, knowing that now the transmission was over, it was safe to cross the line into her sacred space.  
  
She slumped forward against his shoulder, panting, heaving as she caught her breath. "Okay. I'm okay."  
  
Gently, Giles pushed her upright and brushed the hair out of her face. "Are you sure, Willow? That was quite. remarkable."  
  
"Took a little wind out of me," she snarked, smiling fragilely. "But I'm fine."  
  
Giles nodded, brushing more windblown red locks from her face. "If you're sure."  
  
"I'd really like to go home and hold my baby now," she commented, her voice small. The Watcher nodded again.  
  
"We can review this later, then," Giles said softly.  
  
"No, no, I mean, we can do it at my house. Download it into our computer and try to figure it out. " She smiled brightly. "Besides, you'll never figure out how to work a digital camera."  
  
He chuckled, lending her a hand to get up. "Quite right there. "  
  
"Call Anya and let her know you'll be at our place, and I'll call Buffy and Spike and let them know that they have the house to themselves this evening." Giles raised an eyebrow. "They deserve a little happy before we drop this one on them, don't they?"  
  
Again, he nodded. "From the looks of things, it might be quite a large bomb."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Buffy was nearly racing towards the warehouse. It'd been ages since they got to kill something bigger than a Vamp. Glee, thy name is demon slaughter, she thought to herself.  
  
Spike swaggered merrily behind her, just as enthused at the thought of taking out some of the evening's pent up aggression on a nasty beast, and then taking his wife home and showing her the what for. Well, quietly at least. Wouldn't want to wake the tots.  
  
They arrived at the door of the abandoned building and stopped, listening to the sound of growling and something tossing things around. A big something.  
  
Buffy looked over at Spike, raising an eyebrow.  
  
Spike grinned in response.  
  
Just as she was about to open the door, he grabbed her hand. "I'll do the grunt work, Love. Just help me wear him down a bit."  
  
She shook her head, disbelieving. "What are *you* talking about? This is *my* job, remember?"  
  
"Ours," he hissed, still holding her hand. "Now be a good little Slayer and stay out of daddy's way."  
  
Buffy huffed, anger boiling. "Stay out of. Oh God, not this again."  
  
"Not *what*?" He remarked, his own face showing annoyance.  
  
"Got to stay out of the way, Pet. Don't want to hurt the baby," she remarked, mimicking Spike's voice in the most grating faux accent she could muster. Spike cringed.  
  
"Well, you don't," he commented.  
  
"Don't you think I know that?" Her voice held all the pent up rage she wanted to take out against the great oaf that was knocking about behind the closed warehouse door.  
  
"Hope you do, Love. Can't be too careful."  
  
"ARGH!" She nearly screamed. "Baby inside. Size of an eraser or something. Not going to get hurt. Been through this before."  
  
"Mine too, Buffy," he countered. "Just 'coz you want to get your jollies beating up some nasty doesn't mean I'm ready to let you ."  
  
"Don't!" She snapped, wrenching her hand away from his. "Don't even say it." Buffy turned away, clenching and unclenching her hands, showing her back to her Vampire lover.  
  
Spike sighed, his shoulders slumping. Couldn't be mad at her. Couldn't make her mad. Wasn't good for any of them.  
  
Slowly, carefully, he moved up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and nuzzling the delicate shell of her ear. "Love, I'm sorry. Okay? Know I get a bit protective sometimes."  
  
"I wouldn't do anything to hurt our baby," Buffy countered, beginning to relax and melt into him.  
  
"I know that, Love. I know." He kissed her cheek softly. "Just know how much we wanted this. Don't want to take any chances. All right?"  
  
"Yes," she said softly. "But Spike, I can fight. You know it. I mean, I was like a house when I came down to find you in that Hell dimension."  
  
He nodded, inhaling the fragrance of her hair. A new physical reaction was taking over, channeling all that blood and adrenaline from the need to fight to. Had to put that thought to the back of his mind for a moment. "Don't need to do that now, though, Love. You have me with you. I've got your back."  
  
She smiled, remembering all the times he'd said those words. "Just let me fight, okay? I promise I'll back out if it gets too dangerous."  
  
Again, Spike nodded. "Right. I trust you."  
  
Slowly, she spun in his arms to face him. "Glad we've reached an understanding," she said, rubbing her nose against his and melting him completely.  
  
"Ugh," Spike grunted, disgusted with himself. "Can I ever stand up to the likes of you?"  
  
"Nope," she chirped, kissing him gently and pulling away. "Now can we go beat something up?"  
  
He reached for the door handle, opening it quietly. "After you, Pet."  
  
"Yay!" Buffy chanted, skipping merrily through the door. ~~~~~  
  
It didn't take long, even in the relative darkness, to find their slime demon. The warehouse must have been some kind of storage facility for freight, as all around them were abandoned boxcars, chains and ropes. Buffy chuckled, remembering her words to her beloved earlier in the evening.  
  
'Keep those handy for later.'  
  
They followed the noise and the smacking of what sounded like the fake snot that kids enjoyed playing with, thwacking into walls and floors. Spike cringed, his advanced sense of smell picking up on the scent of decay and something akin to boiled eggs.  
  
Finally, they caught sight of the demon as they crouched side by side behind a boxcar. It was huge and, well, slimy, and tossing around the freight boxes like they were giant legos.  
  
"Trying to make a nest," Spike surmised, looking at the ring of cars filled with softer items and dead animal skins. Both of them squinched their noses.  
  
"You mean it's a she?" Buffy asked, turning her attention to Spike.  
  
"Female Narza demon," Spike rattled off. "Carrying a load of eggs."  
  
"Great," Buffy commented. She thought for a second. "Doesn't that mean there's got to be a boy one somewhere?"  
  
"They can reproduce asexually," Spike continued, sounding more like Giles than her snide, swaggering Vampire. She turned to look at him. His bright blue eyes. His bleached blonde hair. Muscles rippling under the old t-shirt he'd put on so as not to foul the leather duster.  
  
Definitely not Giles.  
  
Had to push that thought back a minute.  
  
"What fun is that?" She finally offered, a kittenish smile breaking across her face.  
  
Spike returned it, his body heating up just from looking at her. He could sense where her thoughts were going, taking his merrily along.  
  
Had to push that thought back a minute.  
  
"Not much, I'd wager," Spike finally answered, getting a tenuous grip on his raging hormones.  
  
"So," Buffy began again. "How do we kill it?"  
  
"Got a li'l opening. Like a blowhole. About here," he said, pointing at his sternum. "Ram something hard in there and she'll be done for."  
  
A smirk crossed Buffy's face. "Ram something in the hole?"  
  
"Later, Pet," Spike responded, smiling slyly and picking up a huge iron bar. "Coming along?"  
  
"Bet your hole rammer I am," she joked, grabbing a second iron bar and standing. They looked at each other for a minute, and took off towards the demon, with a battle cry and a roar. ~~~~~~  
  
It felt blissful, Buffy thought as she and Spike worked in seamless unison, back-to-back, dodging swatting arm-like things and poking the naughty demon with big sticks. They battled furiously, knowing that they could have probably dispatched the Narza far faster than this, but relishing the joy of the fight.  
  
He moved like a cat. A big, angry cat. All of the beautiful fire inside of him coursing through his veins and setting his muscles alight as he alternately took jabs at the creature and protected Buffy as she moved gracefully to the front of the demon, poised and ready to do it in.  
  
"Buffy!" His voice shouted as she aimed the iron rod at the little hole about half way up the creature's chest. There was no way she'd reach it at her height, the demon being close to twenty feet tall.  
  
She hazarded a glance at Spike just in time to see him drive his weapon into the beast's arm that was swinging towards her. She nodded her thanks, and looked up. "Can't reach!"  
  
"Short Slayer," he commented, smiling as he ran at her. Just as he reached her, she realized what he was doing and ran at him as well. As they got to the spot in front of the demon, he threw his arms back, exposing his chest and she jumped, bracing her feet hard against his flesh and pushing herself up, flipping into the air and eyeing the hole as she spun past.  
  
On her descent, she lined up, ramming the iron bar into the hole with pinpoint precision and lightning speed, flipping her way back to the ground as the demon exploded with an earth shattering scream.  
  
Buffy landed in a pile of ooze, her eyes searching for Spike. She saw him, supine on the floor, staring up at the ceiling with wide eyes. Terror ran through her as she hurtled across the distance between them.  
  
"Spike!" Her voice was thready with fear as she slid to her knees next to him.  
  
He gasped once and pushed himself up on his elbows. "S'alright, Pet. Just knocked the wind out of me."  
  
She smiled, her soft hand rubbing his chest. "Sorry, baby."  
  
"Had to be done," he coughed, shaking his head to try to free his eyes of the ooze. He chuckled, looking at her. "Know you're pretty, even covered in slime."  
  
She extended her hand to him, helping him to sit. "Bet you say that to all the girls."  
  
"Just you, Pet," he answered, pushing slime soaked blonde hair from her face.  
  
A shrill noise broke their relative silence. It took them both a minute to realize what it was.  
  
Spike's pocket was ringing.  
  
"Good you," Buffy joked. "Even remembered the phone!"  
  
Spike smirked, digging it out of his pocket. "Hello?" He panted. She watched him with amused delight as the century old Vampire listened to the disembodied voice on the phone. What would his parents think?  
  
Her amusement turned to something else as he winked at her and raised an eyebrow. "Right. Thanks, Red."  
  
The phone clicked shut.  
  
"What was that all about?" Buffy asked, helping Spike to his feet.  
  
"Seems that she and her lot decided to take ours home with them tonight. Got the evening to ourselves."  
  
"And an empty house," Buffy purred, sidling up to her lover, the adrenaline of battle starting up again.  
  
"Who needs a house, Pet?" Spike said, grabbing her hand and leading her towards the back of the warehouse. She smiled wickedly as she passed a pile of debris, picking up a length of rope on her way out.  
  
"Not us," she agreed, letting him pull her into the darkness of the night.  
  
To be contd. 


	12. Under Cover

Good evening, Everyone!  
  
Well, I hope that those of you who read the rated version of chapter 11 have had a chance to recover. I think the aftermath will amuse you! For those of you that didn't, I've written a little, PG summary so that you know where we're starting.  
  
Also, for those of you on Vamp Sundae, the Sput (Spuffy Smut) short fic series should start on Friday with Sensing. The series is called Vacation, and you have to be a Vamp Sundae member to read it.  
  
Feedback is so important. I need to know that I'm doing all right by you, so *please* let me know what you think!  
  
Thanks, as always, and hope you enjoy!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: Under Cover (Chapter Twelve- Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: For those of you who did not read the rated version, all you need to know is that Buffy and Spike, after having a little alone-time on the beach, broke a pier and trapped all their clothes under the rubble. This is the aftermath of that little tryst. Also, Willow and Giles try to unscramble the cryptic prophesy, and decide that they need to call in the reserves.  
  
Under Cover  
  
Dawn sat silently in the driver's seat of her SUV, trying to stare anywhere *but* the beach, the motor idling along with her seething anger. Her fingers drummed the steering wheel as she stewed, until something caught her eye.  
  
The parking lot lamplight glittered against the diamond on her finger and she smiled, thinking of the beautiful, dark, man waiting naked in her bed for her to come home.  
  
Naked.  
  
Her bed.  
  
The anger returned.  
  
Two silent forms, wrapped in long, gray wool blankets, climbed into the back seat without uttering a sound. Dawn glanced in the rear view window and let out a sharp, angry exhale.  
  
"Dawnie," Buffy began.  
  
The younger sister raised one hand quickly in a gesture of silence, and pulled away from the curb.  
  
"Dawn," Buffy whined again.  
  
"I *don't* want to hear it," Dawn snapped.  
  
"Niblet, give your sis a chance." Spike attempted to mediate.  
  
"I *really* don't want to hear it from you." She sighed again, screeching out of the lot. "After all the lectures *you* gave *me*. Ha!"  
  
"Dawn, that's not fair, it's just." Buffy tried again.  
  
"I came. I brought blankets. I'm taking you home. I've done enough," the younger Summers argued.  
  
Spike wriggled inside the itchy blanket. "'Supposin' the wool is a hint."  
  
"Damn right!" Dawn replied, turning onto Woodside. "I had some nice, comfy, velour ones right on the couch, but I dug those out Just.For.You."  
  
"I don't get why you're so angry," Buffy commented, a little afraid of her sister for the first time in. ever.  
  
"Argh!" Dawn grunted, slamming her fist into the steering wheel and then running her hand through her bed-mussed hair. "Let me *count* the ways. Four AM and *I* get a call from the local police, who, thanks to the legal talents of my soon -to-be husband, didn't *arrest* you for indecent exposure. *And*, speaking of said soon-to-be husband, did it *ever* occur to you that this is *the* night. The first night as. engaged people? I mean, how rude are *you*? It's like our wedding night or something and you go and call? Because *you're* stranded naked on the beach after a boff- fest? Brian and I are all in the middle of."  
  
"Niblet," Spike growled. "Don't want to hear this."  
  
"And *I* don't need to see my *naked* brother-in-law and my *pregnant* sister climb into wool blankets and sit with their bare *asses* on my leather seats!"  
  
The pair in the back was silent for a long moment. Finally, Buffy uttered, "Point taken."  
  
"So," Dawn continued, still seething. "I am going to drop you off, kick you out of my car, and return to the hot, sexy, naked man in *my* bed, and I don't care *who* wants to hear it or not."  
  
Both Buffy and Spike stared wide-eyed at the angry red face in the rear view mirror, never having heard their little Dawnie so . put out. Some *major* making up was in their future.  
  
"Sorry, Niblet," Spike muttered, still in shock as Dawn turned onto Revello.  
  
"Yeah," Buffy whispered, feeling that same wave of guilt she felt after lying to her mother as a teen and being caught sneaking into the house. "Really sorry."  
  
Dawn pulled up in front of the house and the car shuddered to a halt. All of them sat stock still for a moment before Dawn took a deep breath and spoke.  
  
"Okay," she began, her voice a bit calmer now. "I know you guys do a lot. I mean, with the whole world-saving, kid-raising thing." She stopped, thinking for a moment and staring at the dark street ahead of her. "Look, I'm the first one to say that I want you to be happy and to still have. alone time. as eww as that may be to think about." Dawn shuddered for emphasis, causing Buffy to chuckle and Spike to smirk. "But I'm a grown woman now and I live with a man who I'm going to marry and I'm. I'm just not at your beck and call anymore."  
  
"Dawn! We never," Buffy stuttered, completely taken aback.  
  
"Yes," Dawn interrupted. "Yes, you did. To me. To all of us. Most of the time, it's fine, but, I mean. think! This was important to me, Buffy! Tonight. I never, ever, thought I would say yes to *anyone*. Especially not after. after what happened with Mom and Dad. But I did. Because of *you*. Because if I could be half as happy."  
  
"Nibs," Spike said softly, hearing the tears well in the girl's throat.  
  
Dawn recovered. "But you have to learn, the world doesn't revolve around you, just because you save it."  
  
Both Buffy and Spike sat dumbstruck and guilty in the back seat, staring at the teary girl in the mirror.  
  
"Now, I love you. But I am going home to spend the weekend in bed with my fiancé. *Please* don't call me," she finished.  
  
Dawn clicked a button and unlocked the doors. Spike nodded to her in the mirror, putting his hand on her shoulder as Buffy climbed silently out of the car.  
  
"Sorry, Niblet. Lucky bloke you got. Luckiest."  
  
Dawn cracked a tired smile through the tears. "Get out of my car, naked Vampire. I might have to yak."  
  
Spike chuckled, kissing her cheek and sliding out to meet his lover on the curb.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Pages whined off the computer's printer at a steady pace as Willow pulled freeze frames from Giles' video and clicked the keys. The Watcher sat, staring at the pages and rubbing the space between his eyes until it was almost raw. Tara brought in another tray of coffee. Oz was having a sleep over in the kids' room.  
  
"Find anything yet?" Tara asked, setting the tray down on the coffee table and brushing her hand over Willow's. The redhead smiled wearily at her lover, squeezing her soft fingers.  
  
"Found out that Buffy has a nifty video camera," Willow answered, her voice heavy with exhaustion.  
  
"Because of the kids," Tara deduced. "Maybe we should get one."  
  
"Soon, baby," Willow answered, smiling up at her lover's gentle face.  
  
Giles set the printouts on the table in front of him, trying to piece them together in some semblance of order, rubbing the spot on his forehead the entire time.  
  
"How you doin'?" Willow asked the Watcher, pivoting on her chair to face him.  
  
Giles sighed. "I'm afraid not very well," he responded. "The paintings are self-explanatory, but these runes."  
  
"I've never seen them before either," Willow finished, tracing them on the computer screen. "I mean, they're in a language I've never seen before. Nothing even *close*."  
  
"How.how 'bout Cyrus?" Tara asked, hopefully.  
  
Again, the Watcher sighed. "I emailed him a sample of the writing. He replied that it was a mystic language, probably used by Priestesses around the time of Arthurian England, but he could not read it."  
  
"Not of the good," Willow commented, dropping her head onto her folded arms.  
  
Tara was quiet, thinking about how bad it would be to state the obvious. "Spike could read it," she said, her voice shaky with nervousness.  
  
"He could," Giles replied, then let out a deep breath, staring forlornly down at the pages.  
  
Tara stared at them both, a bit confused. Willow squeezed her hand gently, smiling up at her again. "They went through so much with Emma and Will. Probably best if they don't even *know* that the Prophesy exists unless it's really something to worry about, you know?"  
  
Tara nodded sagely. "Sorry, but I'm not much with. with the mystic languages."  
  
Suddenly, Giles jumped off the couch, pouncing on his dinner jacket and rummaging through the pockets until he produced his cell phone. Quickly, he dialed, a sense of hope and of purpose evident on his face.  
  
"Who... who are you calling?" Willow asked, watching the Watcher curiously.  
  
"Someone who I think can help," Giles answered as the phone rang in his ear. Both girls looked at him quizzically, waiting for him to tell them what he was so worked up about.  
  
That is, until they heard the conversation begin.  
  
"Wesley? Giles. We need your help."  
  
To be contd. 


	13. Rogue

Howdy, all!  
  
YAY! I got a chapter out on time again!  
  
:::Nim does happy dance of joy!:::  
  
Here is installment 13 of the story, and, of course, I want to know what you think. Feedback makes me work faster.  
  
And see, I got a little last week, so I also have a chapter of Vacation coming out on Vamp Sundae either Thursday or Friday (it's in beta now). Two chapters in one week! I haven't knocked that out in a while!  
  
Well, enjoy and I do hope to hear back from ya!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: The Rogue (Chapter Thirteen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: A friend appears from LA to help Willow and Giles with the Prophesy. Buffy and Spike are oblivious, at this point, to the danger Buffy and her unborn child may be in.  
  
The Rogue  
  
It was late in the morning when Oz heard a knock on the door. He stirred from his sleeping bag on the floor of the babies' room. Emma made a faint noise and rolled over. Will was snoring a quiet, gentle snore and the twins were utterly undisturbed by the noise.  
  
Footsteps padded through the living room and Oz decided it was best to lie low, for the time being. Stay with his miniature charges. It was best if someone was there to protect them. There were some major goings-on in Sunnydale and he knew that his part was second string. He'd never been a whiz with computers or a mystical encyclopedia, whether or not he was now a mystical creature. His life had become music and the twins, and Willow and Tara.  
  
And he was damned happy for it.  
  
Oz surveyed the room once again and closed his eyes. This was his place and this was where he belonged.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Giles rubbed his eyes from his makeshift bed on the couch. The knocking grew more insistent. He heard rustling in the women's bedroom, but no one was up to answer the door. With a sigh, he stood, still in his untucked white shirt and dark brown pants, and made his way barefoot to the door.  
  
He opened it only as far as the chain would allow, trying to focus. "Hello?"  
  
"Oh, let me in, silly," Anya's voice said from the other side of the door. "I miss you and I want to cuddle."  
  
Giles smiled through his relative annoyance and unchained the door. Anya stood, an overnight bag in hand, Randy on her hip and a look of exhaustion in her eyes.  
  
"You all right?" Giles asked, taking Randy and putting his hand on her shoulder.  
  
"I couldn't sleep," Anya answered, looking for all the world like a little girl. "I can't sleep when you're not there. Can I stay here with you?"  
  
Giles chuckled, kissing his son gently, and guided her to the couch. "Of course, dear. Although there isn't much room."  
  
"I can sleep on the floor," Anya countered, looking exhausted. She paused, holding the bag out to him. "I brought you PJ's and clothes. I knew you wouldn't want to sleep in the nude here."  
  
Again, Giles chuckled, kissing her cheek. "It's almost morning, Anya. But thank you."  
  
As he arranged his wife and son on the couch, another knock came at the door. The Watcher sighed, running a hand through his hair, and heading back to the door, opening it wider this time.  
  
In front of him, completely changed from the last time they'd seen each other, was Wesley.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Wesley," Giles said, his shock at the once prim and proper Watcher audible.  
  
Wesley nodded, a leather satchel in one hand, a duffle in the other. "I came as quickly as I could."  
  
Giles motioned the former Watcher into the entryway, still regarding him with awe and confusion. As they rounded the corner to the living room, Willow stood at the edge of the room, a robe of red silk tied around her. Her jaw dropped open and she positively gaped.  
  
"Willow, you remember Wesley Wyndam-Price," Giles said softly. Anya was already snoring on the couch, wrapped around her son.  
  
Willow nodded, inspecting the man from a distance. "Ye.yes. But.but he wasn't."  
  
"A lot has happened since we last met," Wesley answered, setting his bag down neatly by the wall.  
  
"I'd say," Willow responded.  
  
The man before them was no longer the buttoned up Watcher type. He was rugged and handsome, his hair a bit disheveled in a controlled way. Like he'd gotten into some of Angel's hair gel.  
  
His clothes were different too. Deep brown corduroy slacks and beaten up boots. A thick brown belt and a loose white button down, open a few buttons more than proper. His face was weathered and faint stubble grew over his cheeks and chin. Wesley was lean and muscular now, built a little like Spike only taller. A wide scar went around his neck, stopping at the hollow of his throat.  
  
"Um." Willow began, involuntarily running a hand through her hair in a nervous gesture. This man was almost enough to make her question the team for which she currently played.  
  
Almost, but not quite.  
  
"Hello," Wesley said softly, walking towards the girl and shaking her hand.  
  
"You look. different."  
  
"As I said, a lot has happened," Wesley responded, no apparent smile on his face, but his voice was warm and welcoming.  
  
Tara stumbled into the room, a longer, pale blue terry robe around her. "Oh," she muttered as she saw the man. It was all that she could think of to say.  
  
"Wesley," the former Watcher said, jutting his hand towards the girl. She shook it pensively, her breath caught in her throat.  
  
A voice from behind them spoke up. "Wesley, it seems that we have a Prophesy concerning The One that we. well, we need some help with," Giles said, moving closer to the rest, still disconcerted by the change in his former protégé.  
  
Wesley turned to Giles. "So you said on the phone. I've been following your notes on the One as you sent them. I thank you for that. It's helpful to have all of the information from the Hellmouth in LA, although I cannot say that Angel has gotten any better about the situation with Buffy and Spike."  
  
Giles chortled, shaking his head. "We live in the midst of it and often have trouble," he responded. "But they are happy and their children, The Peacemaker, are well taken care of."  
  
Wesley nodded. "I've no doubt. "  
  
"Besides," Willow began, "I thought Angel and Cordelia."  
  
Wesley smiled softly. "Ah yes, our own resident Honeymooners. It's quite a show."  
  
Willow chuckled, thinking of how the brooding Angel and the hyper, trendy Cordelia would fit. Apparently, it was working as well.  
  
"I did think that you had very little need for a specialist in mystical languages here, what with your very own Emissary to the Queen as well as Spike's gift as part of the One," Wesley commented, laying his satchel down on the glass dining room table.  
  
"I'll go make some coffee," Tara commented, feeling like she'd pretty much been designated as snack girl for this mission. Willow took her hand, squeezing it, and smiled.  
  
"Thank you, baby."  
  
That was enough to make Tara happy in anything she did.  
  
Wesley watched the exchange with a detached amazement, as Tara kissed Willow gently on the lips and went to the kitchen. It seemed that many things had changed since he'd last been here.  
  
Giles fetched the printouts while Willow got some of their texts and Giles filled Wesley in. "To answer your question, Cyrus, the Emissary and Emma's Watcher, has looked at the samples we sent him, and all he could say was that he thought that the language employed an obscure Runic alphabet, probably used by Priestesses during the Arthurian era. As their culture was quite discreet."  
  
"Because of the transition to Christianity," Wesley surmised, taking the printouts from Giles and beginning to arrange them on the table in front of him.  
  
"Right. So there is little if any record as to translation," Giles continued.  
  
Wesley looked at the layout of the Runes and sighed. "Offhand, I cannot say, but given a little time, I can probably come up with something." He looked up at Giles. "So why not bring Spike into this? I thought that as part of the One, he was granted his father's skill with linguistics."  
  
Giles sighed. "Well, I've no doubt he could probably read it. He has not failed on any language or any text we've shown him thus far. However, the Prophesy is. sensitive. I do not want to show it to him, or have it get back to Buffy. Not until we're sure."  
  
"Sure?" The former Watcher asked, quirking an eyebrow at Giles.  
  
Again, Giles sighed, lowering into a chair next to Wesley. "You see, Buffy is carrying a third child."  
  
"What?" Wesley asked, a quick intake of breath putting an exclamation point on his shock. "How is that possible?"  
  
"Heavens knows with them," Giles answered, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "But she is."  
  
"The One was only meant to produce the one child. The Peacemaker," Wesley continued, re-arranging the Runes as he spoke.  
  
A feminine laugh broke the intensity. Willow and Tara returned with the coffee and some toast. "Buffy's never been one to follow the old Prophetic rules," Willow joked, sliding into a chair across from the men, Tara at her side.  
  
Wesley smiled at the woman. A broad, beautiful smile, making both of them gulp. "No, I don't suppose she has."  
  
"This Prophesy, we think," Giles began again, "has to do with a child of evil born unto the One. A child who will ultimately destroy her family. The Peacemaker. The One itself."  
  
Wesley looked at Giles, a flash of fear in his eyes. "We can't let that happen, Rupert. You know that."  
  
"We know that we need to find a way around this," Willow commented, her maternal protection instinct taking over. "We need to find a way for Buffy to have this baby safely. So we need to know what the Prophesy says and find its weakness."  
  
Wesley nodded at the woman, realizing that there was going to be no easy way out on this one. They were not going to let the obvious solution come to fruition, and he and the rest were going to have to tear this thing apart to find another answer. "I'll do my best."  
  
"Thank you," Willow answered, taking a sip of her coffee. "Now, what can we do to help?"  
  
~~~~~~  
  
Spike woke up and stretched, feeling pebbles of sand still stuck to his back. He chuckled, visions of the pier crumbling like the Titanic into the sea running through his head. He and Buffy were no good at being discreet.  
  
A shot of guilt flowed through him as he remembered Dawn's ire at having to rescue them. Going to have to send some flowers, he thought. Lots and lots of flowers. Gerber daisies. She always liked them. Just like her sis.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Spike rolled over and watched her. She was curled on her side, the graceful curve of her back facing him. Her long hair was tangled with sand and sea water, and her golden body had little scratch marks all over from rough housing in the coarse sand. But she was beautiful. Always so beautiful.  
  
Spike scooted closer, spooning against her from behind. She let out a little satisfied grumble and pushed her warm body against his, fitting in perfectly. His hands lazily grazed her skin, feeling her softness. Her warmth. Touching as much as he could of her. Reminding himself that it was real. This was all real. Sometimes, that thought alone amazed him.  
  
His hand stopped involuntarily over her belly, his fingers splayed, touching, feeling. Buffy's eyes fluttered open and she laid a gentle hand atop his, letting her fingers caress his skin.  
  
"Morning," she whispered, craning her neck to catch his lips and plant a gentle kiss.  
  
"Morning, Pet," he answered, showering butterfly kisses on her neck. "How're my girls this morning?"  
  
Her hand led his in gentle circles around her belly. "A little embarrassed. A little ecstatic. A lot hungry. Oh, and itchy. Did I mention itchy?"  
  
Spike chuckled. "Why don't we head into the shower, and then I'll make the both of you anything you want for breakfast?"  
  
Buffy hummed with satisfaction. "Yummy."  
  
"That'd be you, Pet," Spike commented, nibbling at the skin of her shoulder. She melted back into him.  
  
"You know what?" Buffy said as his mouth explored the backs of her arms, her shoulders, back to her neck.  
  
"What's that, Love?"  
  
"Breakfast can wait."  
  
To be contd. 


	14. No Way Out

Howdy, all!  
  
Well, I thought I was only going to have time to release a chapter of *either* MtB or Vacation, however, my Muse was in a good mood, so I squeezed out both. To be honest, I am amazed as I dislocated my knee Friday and feel like someone is driving white hot steel through the middle of my leg.  
  
The bad news is that next week will probably be devoid of both stories, as I will be in Nashville at the convention this weekend and won't have much time to write. I will, however, put out a con report next week, which should at least entertain you.  
  
And there is always *some* sort of ficlet going on at the LJ. *SO* many of you tell me that you read about something on my LJ, but I've never seen you post! For goodness sake, stop and say hi! Friend me! I'll friend ya back! The link is below. We have tons of fun over there during the day while I'm pretending to work!  
  
So, without further ado, here's MtB chapter 14, No Way Out. Please let me know how you feel.  
  
Vacation 3, which is kinda. kinky. will be out on Vamp Sundae on Thursday :::crossing fingers::::  
  
Enjoy!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: No Way Out (Chapter Fourteen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing Buffy/Spike. Most major characters included.  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, UPN, Fox... Just Borrowing. (With, of course, the exception of Emma and William, who belong to Buffy and Spike)  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Summary: Wesley gives his take on the prophesy. The small group in the know develop a last ditch plan. Buffy and Spike reclaim their brood, almost finding out what they are not meant to know. At least not yet.  
  
No Way Out  
  
The morning droned on. The sun began to creep through the blinds of the dining room where Wesley worked. The smell of coffee and bacon and eggs was barely enough to keep his tired mind awake. It had been a long time since he'd worked in the company of so many. Even with Angel, he basically was alone. To this day, even once having been a part of it, he still didn't understand the concept of a Slayer having a family. And in this case, being part of a vast extended family.  
  
A mug appeared in front of the man, steaming and emitting an amazing aroma. "Coffee?" A cheerful voice asked.  
  
Wesley looked up to see Willow once again. My how she had changed. Her hair was still the strawberry red he remembered; her eyes still sparking with the same intelligence and youth as always. But everything else about her had become a woman.  
  
Willow's hair was cut in a long bob, her face leaner and less cherubic, yet still somehow soft and sweet. Her body was thin and curvy at the same time, and her eyes showed just a little of the fatigue of years. She smiled under his gaze, no doubt appraising him in the same way.  
  
"Thank you," Wesley answered, a smile lighting his rugged face. She returned it brightly.  
  
"You all right?" She asked.  
  
"As well as can be expected," he answered, running a hand through his already mussed hair.  
  
"Wanna take a break for a shower and some yummies?" Willow asked, gesturing towards the kitchen. "I mean, you do still eat."  
  
"On occasion," he answered with a smile. "Thank you, Willow. Possibly after I've cracked this bit in the middle."  
  
"Suit yourself," she answered cheerfully, setting a plate of cookies nearby and taking one for good measure. "But mi casa es su casa. Or something like that. Never good at the Spanish."  
  
Wesley smiled. "Willow?"  
  
"Yeah," she answered, still chewing and half way to the door.  
  
"Before I leave, do you think you could catch me up a bit about what's going on here? I mean, I've heard the stories, mostly from Angel, but you know how biased he can be." His intense eyes stared at the girl for a moment and she was trapped in them. As if he exuded some tractor beam from his beautiful eyes.  
  
"S.Sure. You mean, whose kid is whose and who's-my-baby-daddy?" Willow asked, trying to break herself from the gaze.  
  
Another quirky smile from the ex Watcher. Willow found it so . disconcerting?... that he had this really rough and handsome exterior now, but the same soft voice. "Something of that nature."  
  
"Sure," Willow repeated, her smile returning, studying the man in the loosely buttoned oxford. "Better bring a notepad though."  
  
With that, she bounced out of the room.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
It had been hours. It felt more like days, the Watcher thought as he strode out into the living area in his stocking feet, looking impossibly more mussed than he had when he arrived. The entire group of them, all save for the children and, presumably Oz, were sitting on the couches and chairs in the living room, a fire burning in the hearth. Some of them were reading. Some were just sitting and thinking. But they all looked like they had experience in hospital waiting rooms from their demeanor.  
  
Anya, he thought, turned around first. She was sitting next to Rupert, a small child, *his* child, stretched across the other Watcher's lap. It made matters real to Wesley. No Watcher was destined to be a part of this kind of life, yet Rupert Giles had. He'd followed his charge's lead and not let the destiny rule him, but rather had learned to rule the destiny.  
  
"Wesley?" Anya asked, standing. "Wow! I mean, who'd have thought you were hot under all those suits?"  
  
Wesley blushed a bit as the rest turned around. He stood there, his corduroys a bit rumpled but still managing to look crisp, his white shirt still loosely covering lean muscle and sun darkened skin. "Hello, Anya."  
  
Giles craned his neck. "Have you had any luck with the translation?"  
  
Wesley nodded, and then realized that, from the angle in which Giles was sitting, he couldn't see. "Yes," he answered, solemnly. "But I think I'd like to clean up a bit and mull it over before we discuss it further."  
  
"Oh!" Tara blurted, standing, her skirts grazing her ankles in an almost floating, angelic fashion as she walked towards the former Watcher. "I... I can show you to the bathroom, if you like."  
  
Wesley flashed her a fragile, yet warm, smile, understanding what it was that Willow saw in the girl as soon as he got a good look at her beautiful eyes. There was something deep there. Something benevolent and kind and loving that one couldn't find in this world. He wondered, for a moment, if she were an angel or a fairy or something equally as surreally beautiful. But as she tugged his hand and he collected his overnight bag, he realized that she was a human just as he. A human who had remained unjaded despite this world in which they had come to live.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
As the water ran over his back, Wesley thought. These people, people he had known now for years, but had been estranged from, had managed to create something of a family from the rubble of what had happened to their own. They worked as a unit, as they always had, but rather than the rag tag team of children with their frustrated yet loving guardian, they were now a well oiled machine. One in which they each had a place. The One had become greater than merely Buffy and Spike.  
  
It had encompassed them all.  
  
So how, he thought as he shampooed his hair and began to work the soap over his tired body, how was he going to tell them? He'd read the Prophesy. It hadn't been that hard once the alphabet had been deciphered and the order of words had been re-arranged using a more colloquial template. But what was contained within was exactly what Rupert had been dreading.  
  
And that would put the rest of them on guard and defensive against a threat to one of their own. He was bound to be an unpopular man for what he had to say.  
  
His brain searched for a way out. A way to avert the Prophesy, as the Slayer had averted so many before. When he'd become a Watcher he'd thought that these things were carved in stone. That once a Prophesy had been written, it *was* and there was no stopping it.  
  
But were that true, Buffy would have fallen to the Master. And Faith, his own former charge, would never have been in existence simultaneous with her Californian counterpart. And Angel would be human, or at the very least, have been the other half of the One.  
  
Some things were never as straightforward as they seemed.  
  
No one had counted on Spike. No one in the Watchers' Council, at least then, had even bothered to look at William the Bloody as the one whose heart would be enough to make him good without a soul. To make him seek out one because of his love for the Slayer. They had always assumed it would be Angel. But it wasn't meant to be.  
  
A flicker of hope lit inside Wesley as he thought of all of the Prophesies that they had confounded in the years in which they had been a part of this cosmic soap opera pitting good against evil. Maybe there was a way around it. Maybe there would be a way to circumvent it.  
  
But, alas, that wasn't the duty near at hand. What he had to do next, share his findings with Rupert and the rest of the group, would likely not garner him favour in their ranks. He had to do it anyway. And then try to get to work helping them. He hadn't intended on staying past the one night, but he knew he could not leave, to allow them to fend for themselves, without at least trying to assist.  
  
Buffy and her unborn child might not be part of his family, however, they were important to her, and thus to Rupert, and thus to them all. And he owed it to his kind to help out.  
  
The water clicked off and he shook his head, clearing his mind and letting the water fly off of him in huge droplets. Grabbing a towel, he emerged from the shower, dressing in snug blue jeans, a hunter green button down, and a tan belt with a shining silver buckle. As he looked at his reflection, he considered shaving, his hand running over the few days of stubble grown there, and then decided that it was a waste. Not important today. He brushed his teeth and towel dried his dark locks, and then padded back into the living room barefoot to meet his doom. ~~~~~  
  
"No," Willow said firmly. "I can't buy that anyone would do that! That anyone would will a child to . No!" Her face was flushed with anger. Tara raised her hand to Willow's shoulder and rubbed softly to soothe her.  
  
Wesley swallowed, looking down at his translation. "I'm afraid this is what the Prophesy states."  
  
"Are you sure?" Giles asked, rubbing the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.  
  
"It states that this child, if born, will be set against its family by the forces of Darkness. That the child, once it reaches the age of maturity, will kill both parents and then the Peacemaker," Wesley repeated, his fingers drumming the edge of his notebook.  
  
"Leaving only Will," Anya answered, wrapping her hands around her self, wishing this all to go away.  
  
Wesley nodded. "Most likely, as Will was never meant to be. He was a."  
  
"He's a child," Willow blurted. "A little boy. A normal little boy."  
  
"And that is why he'd probably be spared," Wesley stated. "No known supernatural abilities for the child of doom to be attracted to. The third child would be focused, drawn to the abilities of his or her parents, and older sister. Like a beacon."  
  
"There has to be a way around it," Tara said quietly. "I. I mean. We've always found a way."  
  
"I suppose it's fair to say, in present company, that nothing is carved in stone, however, this seems to be a fairly straightforward message, as far as Prophesies go. Not much room for interpretation." Wesley stopped, staring at the empty faces around him. "It . it also indicates that this has come to pass twice before."  
  
Giles closed his eyes. "The pictures. "  
  
"Exactly," Wesley stated. "The documentation in two different eras of human existence implies that this event has occurred or almost occurred in the dawn of human existence, as well as around the time of Arthur, in the early 600's AD. That either the Slayer and her paramour were brought together as the One and then killed by this child, or that they were prevented from coming together at all because of this Prophesy."  
  
"I'm so sick of Prophesies," Anya stated flatly. "I mean, what's the point? They're old, they're outdated, even the demon population doesn't abide by them and Buffy never seems to let them."  
  
"But they always happen," Giles interrupted quietly. "It's just that Buffy has been lucky enough to overcome their words so far. But every last one of them has come to pass."  
  
"Like Emma," Tara whispered, still rubbing Willow's shoulder.  
  
Giles nodded. "Like Emma."  
  
"So what do we do?" Anya interjected. "I mean, we can't."  
  
"I think we'll have to tell her," Giles explained. "Let it be her choice."  
  
"*What* choice?" Willow asked, narrowing her eyes at the Watcher.  
  
Giles looked at Wesley, and then down at the table. Wesley cleared his throat, saving Giles the horror of having to save it. "The only way we can ensure the safety of the Peacemaker, and the One, is to strongly advise that..." he swallowed, not wanting to go on, but knowing he'd have to. "That they terminate the pregnancy."  
  
"What?" Willow exclaimed. "You're going to ask Buffy, ask *Spike*, to kill their child?"  
  
Wesley looked away, feeling like a baby murderer, even though he wished upon all stars at once that this were not true. "To save the One and their first child, they may have to."  
  
"No. "Willow's eyes were wild with fire. "There has to be another way. Can we. what if we call a meeting, a truce, between the forces of light and of darkness and see if we can negotiate? Give them something in return for letting this child be."  
  
"Like what?" Anya asked. "The blood of the innocent?"  
  
Again, Willow narrowed her eyes, her body tense and feeling like it might explode. "I don't know what, Anya. But it wouldn't hurt to ask."  
  
It sounded far-fetched, but as far as plans went, it was all they had. "We should tell them," Giles said softly to Willow. "And we can move from there. But I don't discount your idea, as incredible as it may sound."  
  
"What's incredible?" A chipper voice called from the doorway. They had been so involved in their conversation, that they hadn't heard the door click open and Buffy walk in, Spike at her heels.  
  
"No...Nothing," Willow covered, brightly, hopping up and running over to her friend. She wrapped her arms around Buffy and hugged her hard.  
  
"Enough with the love, Will," Buffy giggled. "Came to get my wee 'uns."  
  
"They're at the park with O."  
  
"What's *he* doing here?" Spike snarled, staring over at the table as Wesley stood. They stared each other down a moment, studying the other's stance.  
  
"Wesley?" Buffy asked, appraising the former Watcher. She gulped as she looked at him. No more geeky seersucker suit Wesley. No. This one was. damn. She gulped again, wondering whether or not Faith, wherever she was, had seen the new look on her old boss.  
  
Wesley nodded at Buffy as Spike came up next to her, wrapping his arm possessively around her waist. "And I'll say *again*, what's *he* doing here?"  
  
Okay, thought Giles. Maybe not quite the best time to speak to them about this. He'd have Spike and Buffy to the pub later, and bring Willow along for the support. But, for now, they needed to separate the more roguish portions of this get together before blows were exchanged.  
  
"He's come to help me with some translation for the Council," Giles covered. Then, watching Spike's eyebrow raise, he remembered that Spike had been doing that for him since the One had been created. Bugger. "And. and to document scientific time lines on the evolution of some Jaxar demon populations."  
  
"Sounds riveting," Spike commented, pulling Buffy closer. "Our brood around?"  
  
"Oz took them to the park," Tara answered, coming to them and kissing first Buffy and then Spike on the cheek. "No . no doubt they had ice cream for break.breakfast, so why don't we go find them and take them all out for something healthy."  
  
Spike nodded at the sweet Witch. "Right then. Should collect them. Promised Will I'd take him to the toy store anyway."  
  
"Yeah," Buffy agreed, her mind elsewhere. She could sense something amiss, but couldn't figure out quite what it was. Not yet, at least. "We should. we should go find them."  
  
Tara slid on her jacket and herded Buffy and Spike from the entry hall without another word. They knew, she thought. They knew that it was all about to come crashing down.  
  
Again.  
  
But she might as well try and buy them a little more time before all hell was unleashed.  
  
To be contd. 


	15. The YettoBe

Good evening, All,  
  
First of all, thank you to all of you who have sent the cards and email, who have called and written, in regard to my knee. It's healing well and I get the stitches out tomorrow, although the rehab has only just begun.  
  
Now, because I've spent the last few weeks in a narcotic induced stupor, I've been a bit slow on the writing. Lots more spell check and "wait, what did I say?' moments. But I did manage to get this chapter out. I hope to write a Vacation chapter before the end of the week, but forgive me if I can't. Between the knee, moving, and the meds, I'm a bit on the not-quick side of things.  
  
Lastly, buckle your seatbelt as the angst has begun. My betas were wonderful with this, but I am sure that the first half will evoke a Kleenex moment or two. Also, I had to touch on a *very* sensitive subject that is vital to the story, but *please* know that I did so reluctantly and that I tried my very hardest to handle it with the sensitivity and gentleness that it warrants. Please know that my intention is to present it only within the context of the story, and I hope that no one is hurt by it.  
  
That being said, give it a read and *please* let me know what you think. Especially now.  
  
Thank you for reading!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: The Yet-to-Be (Chapter Fifteen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Author's Note: The very sensitive topic of abortion is covered in this chapter. I tried to handle it within the context of the story and with as much sensitivity as I could. Please, please, try to understand that it was an integral part of this book and needed to be covered, however, I was *not* trying to make a stand or begin a debate on the topic. I do hope, if any of the readers of this story have had to go through this tragic experience, you can forgive me for having to dredge it up and I hope that I gave the issue, and the decision, the merit and sensitivity it deserves.  
  
Summary: Willow and Tara have a heart-wrenching discussion of the situation before them. Spike and Buffy have a last moment of quiet with their family before the world begins to crumble.  
  
The Yet-to-Be  
  
"Hey," Willow gushed nervously as Tara came back through their flat door, shrugging off her coat and looking as forlorn as the rest of them felt. "How'd it go? Everything okay? Where's Oz?"  
  
Tara hung her coat on a hook in the hallway and kicked her boots off, padding into the living room where Willow sat curled on a beanbag chair in front of the fire.  
  
"They don't know anything," Tara answered, easing down into the twin chair and curling into herself.  
  
Willow looked down at her mug and then back up at her lover. "I. I know."  
  
Tara was silent for a long moment, looking around. "Where did everyone go?"  
  
"Wesley went with Giles and Anya to their house so that he could set up shop in their guest room."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"What about Oz?"  
  
"Took the twins to get some lunch."  
  
"Oh."  
  
"He doesn't know either."  
  
"We'll tell him."  
  
"Are we going to tell *them*?"  
  
An uncomfortable silence settled over the room until all that was heard was the crackle of the fire and the sound of slow, sad breaths barely audible in the chilly flat.  
  
"I don't want to," Willow said quietly, her finger tracing the rim of her mug. "No one should have to."  
  
"They deserve to know," Tara interrupted. "I mean, they deserve a choice."  
  
"What kind of choice *is* that?" Willow snapped, her voice unusually hostile. Tara cringed back a little until the redhead reached out her hand and touched Tara's with kindness and warmth. "I'm not mad at *you*, baby. I'm just. ARGH!"  
  
"Argh seems to cover it," Tara answered, taking a sip of her partner's cocoa and returning it to her hands.  
  
"I mean. what are the choices? Hey, Buffy? Hey Spike? Yeah, we were hanging out reading some old prophesies when this one sort of jumped out at us," Willow began bobbing her head sarcastically. "Well, it kinda goes that that baby you made and love already is sort of a bastion of evil being sent to kill your other daughter and you. So, quick, make up your mind! Have the baby and risk it going all Manson on your family, or just."  
  
Tara closed her eyes, knowing the other option. She took a long, steadying breath. "Don't."  
  
"Why not?" Willow argued. "I mean, if we're asking them to consider it, we should at least be able to say it." The redhead's face flushed with anger and sorrow as she grappled with the concept.  
  
Sure, they'd all thought about it. Loosely, at least. When they were kids and had to confront being confronted with an . unplanned pregnancy. The choice was all clear and shiny back then. It's easy to say things when you don't understand them. It's easy to make decisions that you are not being forced to make.  
  
But both of them, Tara and Willow, had felt what Buffy was feeling now. They were all adults. They had known the sheer joy, the contentment, the peace and the love that one felt when a child was being nurtured inside. When love was. *becoming*.  
  
Suddenly, that choice was no longer clear. No longer straightforward. No longer conceivable.  
  
Now, it would be the death of them to face it. To let down one of their own. To not bring into the world something as beautiful as Emma or William or River or Randy or Loki or Kali. To have to consider condemning any one of them to death, even in the most horrendous of circumstances.  
  
It wasn't about pro choice or pro life or pro *anything*. People make decisions that they have to, and that they don't want to, every day. And they had the right to make them the way that they did. But Willow and Tara, knew Buffy and Spike. Knew how much they wanted this child. Could see, in Buffy's eyes, the joy. The pride in Spike's. The love in them both.  
  
And they had to give them this option.  
  
Oh, God.  
  
Tears streamed down Willow's cheeks without her even registering that she was crying. "I mean, Tara, how do we tell them? What do we say?"  
  
Tara held her lover's hand, stroking it softly. "We tell them the truth, baby. I don't want to. No one should have to tell anyone something so bad. But. but they need to know. How can they try and stop this if they don't know?"  
  
Willow hiccupped, wiping the streaming tears from her cheeks and watching Tara's eyes shed small, silent drops as well. "Do you. do you think they can find a way, Tara?"  
  
Tara was silent, brushing the silvery rivers from her lover's cheeks. "I don't know, baby. I hope they can. Or. or we can. We'll do *everything* we can for them, okay? All of it. No matter what it takes. But we *have* to tell them."  
  
Willow nodded, leaning forward in her chair and falling against Tara's chest. Tara stroked her hair with the gentleness and tenderness of years of love and comfort. "I don't want them to have to go through this. I don't want to go through this."  
  
"Shh," Tara cooed, rubbing her back softly. "We'll do everything we can, okay? And I won't let Giles take you to do this alone. I'll be there with you."  
  
Willow looked up, tears staining her cheeks, but a spark of hope in her eyes. "Thank you."  
  
Slowly, softly, Tara kissed her lips. "We'll help them find a way."  
  
The four of them slid into the vinyl seats of the booth at the diner just at the edge of the city limits. Will considered himself big enough to sit with the 'grow ups' and slid in next to Spike, his eyes the only thing visible over the Formica table top. Buffy and Emma sat on the opposite side, mirroring their boys.  
  
A chirpy young blonde in a short, pink uniform came up to the table and asked for their drink orders. Spike stared only at Buffy. Amazing, she thought, how she'd managed to keep his attention over such cute little dishes for so long. He smiled, reading her mind.  
  
"Can I get you drinks?" The cute young waitress asked.  
  
"Coffee for me, two OJ's for the tots, and a tall water for the beautiful one in the corner," Spike answered, causing both the waitress and Buffy to beam. Inside the waitress prayed that one day she'd have a guy as hot as the one with the two kids, and all drooly over her.  
  
"Do you know what you guys want or do you need a few?" The girl asked, pulling a notepad and a pencil from her white half apron.  
  
"Been here a few times, Pet," Spike said, regarding their weekend lunch spot that had become kind of a tradition. "But you're new."  
  
"Started last week," the girl answered.  
  
Buffy laughed, "Then you don't know to be careful of him!" She joked.  
  
Spike smirked, making the girl laugh and Buffy raise an eyebrow. "Watch it, Love or I might have to turn you over my knee."  
  
"Promise?" Buffy purred, leaning over the table to kiss his cheek. Spike cleared his throat, willing his uncooperative body to extract the vision from his mind of a very naked, soft, beautiful Buffy draped over his knee while he took a paddle to her. Maybe later.  
  
"Uh, yeah. Grilled cheese and fries for the little bits, steak sandwich, rare, for me." Spike stopped and looked at Buffy for a long moment, wrinkling his nose and worrying his lip as he thought. "Two double cheeseburgers, medium, order of fries and a side of fruit for the lady."  
  
Buffy bounced happily in her seat. "YAY! You know me too well."  
  
"Two?" The waitress asked, still grinning.  
  
"I'm a growing girl," Buffy announced, her cheeks flushed with pride.  
  
"Got to feed the yet-to-be too," Spike confirmed, taking Buffy's hand over the table without even realizing he did it.  
  
"Oh! Congratulations!" The waitress said, beaming. "Well, if you come in here a lot, maybe I'll get to see the progress."  
  
"I'm sure you will," Buffy laughed, one hand held tightly in Spike's, the other lying over her belly. "They get kinda big."  
  
"Just you're kind of small, Pet," Spike answered valiantly. "Sides, child should be healthy when it's born."  
  
"Or huge," Buffy amended.  
  
"Well, you'd never know," the waitress complimented, putting the pad back into her apron. "I'd never guess that you'd had kids."  
  
Buffy smiled triumphantly. "I work out."  
  
The girl laughed. "Let me go put your order in."  
  
"Tank you," Will announced as the girl walked away. The waitress smiled adoringly and blew the little boy a kiss.  
  
"Mummy?" Emma asked, looking up at her mother.  
  
"What's up, kiddo?" Buffy answered, moving the hand from atop her stomach and wrapping her arm around the girl's shoulder.  
  
Emma looked down at her mother's stomach. It was still flat and there was no way of telling that there was anything growing in there. "How do you know that there's a baby in there if you can't see it?"  
  
Buffy smiled brightly, squeezing the child in closer against her. "Uh, lots of things. I just. I can sort of just feel it. And your dad can hear them as soon as they're big enough to make a sound."  
  
"Did you hear me?" Emma asked Spike, a shy smile on her face.  
  
"That I did, Mite," Spike answered, sitting Will on his lap so that he could see better over the table. "Sounded like rain, your little heart. Used to lay on the couch with your mum at my old . place, and listen to you for hours."  
  
Emma beamed, realizing her importance in her father's life. How much she meant to him. Even then. "When I was in here?" Emma asked, putting her hand over Buffy's belly.  
  
Spike nodded. "Just like the new little one is now."  
  
"And could you hear it, mum?"  
  
"Not so much," Buffy answered. "But I could feel it when you or Will moved around. A little at first. A *lot* towards the end."  
  
Emma giggled. "Was I big?"  
  
"You were beautiful," Spike answered.  
  
"And big," Buffy joked, kissing the top of her daughter's head.  
  
The waitress returned with the drinks and set them around the table, finding a booster seat for Will so that he was still a big boy sitting at the table, but more than just his nose and eyes were visible from the other side.  
  
"The baby be like Kali 'n Loki?" Will asked, finding his straw with his lips and taking a long pull from his orange juice.  
  
""Cept just one," Spike answered. "We think."  
  
Buffy groaned and rolled her eyes. "Just one," she answered. "And we don't know if it's a little boy, like you," she reached over and ran her finger gently down Will's nose, "or a girl like your sister."  
  
"It's a girl," Emma, Will, and Spike answered in unison.  
  
Buffy's eyes got wide and she chuckled. "What makes you so sure?"  
  
"Just is," Emma answered.  
  
"And it'd only be right to have another Summers-Windsor girl to wrap me round their finger," Spike continued, poking Emma across the table and causing her to giggle madly.  
  
"Coz she was in my dreams," Will answered, causing the rest of them to turn their full attention on the littlest Windsor.  
  
"Your dreams, Will?" Spike asked. "What did you see?"  
  
Will shuddered a little, as if he were cold. "Don't member. But she was there."  
  
"What did she look like?" Emma asked, cocking her head and eyeing her brother.  
  
Will thought for a moment, his subconscious obviously blocking full access to the memory. "Don't member," he said. ""Cept she was pretty like you. But she wasn't all glowy."  
  
"Glowy?" Buffy asked.  
  
Will nodded as if it was perfectly normal to everyone. "You *know*. Emma is all glowy. The pretty lights follow her."  
  
Spike thought a moment. "The fairies, Will?"  
  
Will nodded. "The fairies like her light."  
  
All of them were silent a moment, staring at the boy. "Will, do you think, when we get home, you could draw me a picture of your dream?" William had loved art and shown a natural affinity towards drawing and painting, even at his young age.  
  
The little boy nodded. "Yep. But don't remember her much."  
  
"That's all right, Will," Buffy soothed. "You can draw us a picture of what you do remember."  
  
"Okay," Will answered, taking another sip of his juice. The boy was thoughtful for a long moment before he spoke again. Just like Spike had been when he was human.  
  
"Mum?"  
  
"Yeah?" Buffy answered, smiling brightly at her handsome son. The spitting, miniature image of his father, minus the peroxide and the distinguished little lines that were forming around his eyes.  
  
"Where do babies come from?" Will asked, his eyes questioning and bright.  
  
Emma looked at Buffy as well, wanting the same answer.  
  
Spike looked at Buffy. Buffy looked at Spike.  
  
"Hey, our food's here!"  
  
To be contd. 


	16. Veritas

Well, hi there!  
  
After an extended hiatus, due to a little surgery and a tiny little move down the street (okay, a street 3,000 miles away!), I'm back. At least I think I am!  
  
Although I am still working on settling in and job hunting, I did manage to knock out a chapter of Meant to Be for your reading pleasure. I will hopefully be able to finish the half done chapter of Vacation this week as well.  
  
Please let me know what you think. I need some encouragement now more than ever!  
  
I'm sorry for the delay, but hope the story has been worth the wait.  
  
Thank you for reading!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: Veritas (Chapter Sixteen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
And present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Angst Warning. Buffy and Spike find out the truth about the Prophesy.  
  
Veritas  
  
"You know," Buffy commented, her small hand wrapped in Spike's far larger one. "We won't be able to avoid that question by stuffing their faces with cheese forever."  
  
Spike walked along, shaking his head. "'Void it as long as we can, Love."  
  
"What are we going to say? I mean, the stork was sort of played out even back when I was a kid."  
  
"All those many years ago," Spike chided in return, rolling his eyes. "Dunno. We'll figure it out."  
  
"When?" Buffy asked, obviously bothered by the concept.  
  
"When Emma's entered the convent and Will's taking his holy orders," the Vampire added, his face determined.  
  
Buffy smiled, chuckling under her breath. No point in fighting. He'd come to terms with the growing up of their kids when he was ready. But he was right. Didn't have to be today.  
  
"Wonder what Giles wants to see us about?" Buffy queried, looking up as they walked in the evening twilight towards her Watcher's new establishment.  
  
Spike furrowed his brow. "Not sure, Pet. But seems awfully planned. Mean, it's not often we get home to find Xander waiting to watch our tots without bribing or at least asking nicely."  
  
"And he didn't even insult you once," Buffy added.  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Must be an Apocalypse."  
  
"Must be."  
  
~~~~~  
  
Spike pushed open the heavy mahogany doors of the pub, letting Buffy enter before him. He watched her in amusement as she took in the richly appointed room; the dark leather and deep reds and glistening wood paneling.  
  
"Really. guy-ish," she commented, regaining Spike's hand as they wound through the round, dark wood tables.  
  
"Sort of old-style men's smoking lounge," Spike commented. "Gentlemanly."  
  
Buffy smiled. "William flashbacks?"  
  
A little growl came out of her lover's throat. "Git never got invited to places like this."  
  
"'Git'", Buffy growled back, "was you. And *is* your son."  
  
"Not the same, Pet."  
  
"How?"  
  
"Buffy!" A familiar, nervous voice chirped from a booth in a dark corner of the room. The whole area was vacant of customers, despite the fact the entry room was buzzing.  
  
Buffy looked up at the sound and saw a large, leather appointed booth, big enough for ten people, in the corner. Giles and Wesley sat next to each other, a folio between them, and Willow and Tara next to them, trying to smile, but only succeeding in looking nervous.  
  
Spike looked down at Buffy. Buffy looked up at Spike. Her stomach did a little flip flop. The hairs at the nape of his neck stood on end.  
  
Something was wrong here.  
  
Very wrong.  
  
~~~~~  
  
"Right then, you've got us here and from the stack of tomes in front of you, it isn't a pleasure call," Spike growled, his hip flush to Buffy's and her fingers still twined through his beneath the table. "What is it that you want?"  
  
The four of them sat across from The One, all of them suffering a different reaction to Spike's request. Giles took his glasses off, wiping them with the white linen napkin on the table. Wesley fidgeted with the papers and books, eyes flickering from the pair across from them to the pile in front of him as if he could tell them with eye signals rather than words. Willow told them slightly more of the nature of their business as she hung her head, her hands coming up to cover her face. But Tara was the only one who would look them in the eyes.  
  
And those eyes conveyed more emotions than either of them could bear. Concern, compassion, torture of secrets kept and truths yet to be told. Love and honour, a need and desire to help, and a million other things that they couldn't describe.  
  
Spike felt his heart sink as he looked at those pretty, soft eyes. Buffy stared at Willow, wanting to help and be helped at the same time. Slowly, she reached her hand to her best friend's, bringing the redhead back to her.  
  
"Will, what is it?"  
  
Spike tore his gaze from Tara's and looked at Buffy, his hand clenching tight around hers as if to anchor her in a storm. Still, no amount of weight could hold him steady in the tempest ahead.  
  
"I." Will began, at a loss for words, even before she began. Her head shook back and forth as she tried to speak, tears beginning to slip down her cheeks like silver ribbons.  
  
"Will?" Buffy asked again, her heart beginning to race, fight or flight kicking in. "Will?"  
  
The Witch dropped her head once more and Buffy turned to Giles. "Giles? What's going on?"  
  
Giles opened his mouth as if he were going to speak, and then closed it again, deciding that his glasses were still not quite right and needed some more polishing.  
  
Spike felt Buffy begin to panic, sensing the enormity of things. "Right. Time you told us what this is about," he ordered, his voice gruff, but his mind and heart terrified. He felt it too. Saw it in Tara's eyes. Instinct told him that this was more than just a social visit.  
  
Maybe even more than an Apocalypse.  
  
It was Wesley that broke the standoff, his soft voice sounding like a lion's roar over the absolute silence of the booth. "We've brought you here to tell you of a Prophesy," he began.  
  
Buffy sighed, her hand sliding over her heart in relief. Spike settled a bit as she relaxed. "Prophesy, schmophesy. Bring it on."  
  
"Don't say that Buffy," Willow muttered. "Please."  
  
The Slayer stiffened again, watching Willow's heart break as if it were a film playing across her features. Spike let go of Buffy's hand and wrapped his around her waist, pulling her impossibly close.  
  
"What Prophesy?" The Vampire forged on.  
  
Giles and Willow looked down again. Tara stayed silent, her eyes windows to her tortured soul. Wesley inhaled slowly.  
  
"About the child you are carrying, Buffy."  
  
Spike stiffened like a cat about to pounce. "What about our tot?"  
  
Another deep breath and Wesley spoke again. "This is not easy for any of us. Certainly not for those closest to you. Not for me. And, I'm afraid, it will be devastating ."  
  
"Enough with the set-up, *Wes*," Buffy hissed. "What the hell is going on here? What about our baby? What are you talking about? Willow?"  
  
"Buffy, I can't." Willow stuttered, still in tears.  
  
Giles looked up, his face lined with years and fear. "But I must."  
  
The group around the table quieted again as Giles searched for words. "I'm your Watcher, Buffy, even though you've long outgrown that need for me. And I feel as though you are my own flesh and blood. My child. A need which I, and I hope you, will never find obsolete."  
  
Buffy shook her head, worrying her lip as Spike held her tighter. "I won't," a childlike voice whispered in response.  
  
"And as your Watcher, and thus the guardian of your welfare as well as that of the One, it is my duty to see you through all trials you may face. As your surrogate father, it is my need to do so. Do you understand?" Giles fought back tears as he tried to form words that would not startle, but would not hide the gravity of the situation.  
  
Buffy nodded. Spike felt his heart sink lower, listening. Giles knew how to talk to Buffy in a way that even Spike could not. He was the only authority that she respected. The only voice she answered to. It was not a place he wanted in her life, but one he appreciated.  
  
The Vampire nodded for the Watcher to go on.  
  
Giles breathed deeply, steadily, all gazes boring into him, save for Willow's, who had closed her eyes and lowered her head once more. "Buffy, we have been warned of a Prophesy recently. One which we felt the need to research prior to advising you, or Spike, of its content. Not for lack of respect for your integral place in this unit, this family of sorts, but because it is not something that we could take lightly-an emergency that could be thrust upon you without forethought."  
  
Spike lifted an eyebrow. "Thought it was your job to suss out the danger and ours to fight it off."  
  
"And you would be correct, for the most part," Giles countered, continuing to take deep, even breaths. Almost pushing himself into a meditative state. "However, the content of this Prophesy is very sensitive, especially to the two of you."  
  
"Which is why you asked Watcher Junior here to do the translation rather than asking me," Spike deduced, nodding, his fist clenching and unclenching to release the tension building in his body.  
  
Wesley nodded. "I'm quite sure you'd have been capable of reading the text, Spike. Far more easily than I, with the gifts bestowed upon you by the union of The One. However, the text was fairly straightforward, even for me."  
  
"And," Buffy began, her voice thready. "And it's about the baby?"  
  
Giles nodded. "Yes."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes, breathing slowly, trying to stay calm. Trying not to panic. Trying not to lose control. She could feel Spike tense as wire next to her. Ready to pounce. To throw himself across the table and attack anything that would harm her or their child. She had to stay calm.  
  
"What. what is it?" She sounded more like the child Giles once knew, rather than the woman, the Slayer, she had become.  
  
Another deep breath and the Watcher began again. "We have found that there have been two other instances where the union of the One had either been consummated or had been a possibility. In the first, the union was incomplete. Forces beyond the control of the parties tore them asunder before the One could be fully created."  
  
"Another Slayer and Vampire?" Spike questioned, his fist still working his tension under the table.  
  
Giles nodded in response. "Yes. The second time, apparently, the union was complete and a child, presumably the Peacemaker, was brought into the World."  
  
"How... how is that possible?" Buffy asked. "I mean, I thought that the Council, the Prophesy said."  
  
"That this union had been millennia in the making," Wesley interrupted. "True. Apparently, however, there is more than just the birth of the Peacemaker to the equation."  
  
"Like?" Spike asked.  
  
"In the second situation, the child of Peace was born, as was a second child, another girl," Giles continued.  
  
"Girl?" Spike asked.  
  
"William, your son, was a gift. His soul, his spirit, requested rebirth before Buffy's second child had been granted an essence. The Powers that Be granted that request," Wesley explained.  
  
"Or he would likely have been the true second child of the One," Giles went on. "The female child."  
  
"What of her?" Spike asked, half intensely curious, half horrified by the conversation. "What about her?"  
  
"The second child in the second union was born of," Giles stopped, trying to think of the best way to explain the inexplicable. "She was born into the world as a normal child, but her soul was controlled by the forces of Evil."  
  
"What?" Buffy asked, incredulous. "I mean, that can't happen. Spike is good now. He has a soul. And I'm still a good Slayer. Not all evil- worshipping."  
  
"Not possible," Spike countered, refusing to believe where this was going.  
  
The Watcher nodded. "It is, unfortunately. She, this child, has a destiny of her own. A duty, much like Emma's, but with far darker consequences."  
  
"Like?" Spike asked, not sure if he even wanted to know, but knowing he had to.  
  
"Her fate, her destiny, is to destroy the Peacemaker and the One," Giles said quietly. "To kill Emma and then the two of you."  
  
"What?" Buffy asked, despite the fact she heard every, horrid, word. "No."  
  
"No," Spike repeated calmly. "Nothing, NOTHING, born of love, born from HER," he continued, his voice rising, his eyes focused only on Buffy, "could possibly be anything less than good. Can't be, Mate. Not buying it. 'Nother one of your dime store Prophesies, read by an inadequate louse that couldn't even keep his own Slayer."  
  
Wesley winced at the words, but understood the anger was not at him, but rather that Spike, in his heart, knew that he was right. That Giles, if not himself, would never tell him such a thing without being bloody well sure. "I've brought the Prophesy for you to confirm, of course," Wesley said calmly, pushing the pile of books and papers across the table at Spike. Spike snatched the papers, shuffling madly though them, reading them as one might skim a magazine. Buffy watched him, terror building, her eyes flickering back and forth between his hurried hands and the four forlorn faces in front of her.  
  
"Spike?" Buffy asked after a few minutes of watching. "Spike, please? Please tell me. please?"  
  
The tears began to roll down her face as his hands began to move slower, his eyes wide and horrified as they skimmed the pages, his knuckles turning white as the edges of the papers folded under the weight of his tightening grasp. "No," he whispered under his breath.  
  
Buffy tore away from him, spinning in her seat to fully face him, watching his eyes, his hands, the tears that began to well in crystal pools just before they spilled onto the pages.  
  
"No!" Spike shouted, pushing the papers onto the floor with a crash and leaning across the table, taking Wesley's collar into his grip. "You did this. No, not you. You're just the bloody patsy. *Angel* did this. It isn't real. This is rubbish created by the one . *thing*. that can't accept that."  
  
"Spike!" Buffy screamed, as if it weren't the first time she'd said it. "Spike! Stop!"  
  
His head turned to look on his love, tears rolling down her face, her eyes pleading with him to tell her it wasn't true. That this wasn't really happening. That this was a blessing not a curse.  
  
Spike stopped in his tracks, drowning in her eyes, strangling on her plea for mercy. He dropped the former Watcher, sliding back down into the leather chair to face her, his eyes full of tears, his heart breaking in two as he stared at the hope that he could make it better, that he could make it all right, began to fade in her green eyes.  
  
"Love," he began, trying to touch her, to bring her closer. She backed into the corner like a frightened animal. "S'alright, Love. Just a paper. Not going to happen."  
  
"That's what it says though?" Buffy asked, her voice shaking, her body rolled into a tight little ball, knees drawn to her chest. "That the baby is supposed to kill Emma? Us?"  
  
Spike stared at her, begging her wordlessly not to make him confirm it. Not to make him *say* it.  
  
"Spike!"  
  
He nodded, swallowing. "It does."  
  
The words fell like shattered glass tinkling to the floor.  
  
"Oh, God," she whispered, her teary eyes growing huge. "Oh, God."  
  
Before he could reach her, she leapt over the back of the chair and ran.  
  
To be contd. 


	17. Running Man

Good evening, All,  
  
Okay, so this is a little late at night for many of you, but I still managed to get it out! My betas all are having hectic weeks so I beta'd most of it myself (although thanks to Pat who managed a read through for me! I'm very appreciative!).  
  
Anyway, angst galore, yet again. So, hang in there. This may be a tough one to read as it's very hard on poor Spikey. Things aren't likely to get much better soon.  
  
But they will get better.  
  
Please let me know what you think.  
  
Also, I am looking for one beta at the moment, as one of my awesome crew had to step down for family reasons. If you are interested, please email me at nimueofavalon71 at yahoo.com!  
  
Thank you. And without further ado. angst-o-rama.  
  
Thank you for reading!  
  
Happiness,  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
Title: Running Man (Chapter Seventeen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
and present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Giles and Wesley finish explaining the Prophesy to a much shaken Spike. Spike takes off to look for Buffy, and finds a moment's respite before the storm.  
  
Running Man  
  
Spike's glare shot from where Buffy had escaped through the back door of the pub, back to the two men sitting across from him before his body could extricate itself from the booth.  
  
A strong hand reached across the table, clamping over his shoulder. Spike's wild eyes looked at Giles, torn between sitting down like a good little William and tearing the Watcher's head off.  
  
"We need to speak to you a moment longer," Giles' calm, English voice enunciated.  
  
"I'll. We'll go look for her," Tara said, nodding nervously and grabbing her lover's hand, tearing her from the booth.  
  
Spike glared at all four of them. "If a hair on her head is out of place, I'll eat you all for breakfast. Touch the child and you won't live that long."  
  
It was a simple, growled statement. Not a threat. Not even a promise. It was almost a commandment. A law.  
  
Tara nodded again, pulling a stunned Willow behind her, and took off towards the door.  
  
"Spike," Giles began, drawing the angry and frightened Vampire's attention away from the fleeing girls and back to him and Wesley. "We have to talk about this rationally."  
  
"Ha!" Spike laughed. It wasn't a sound of amusement, but rather a sound of escape and of anger. "You tell me that *my* daughter, Buffy's and mine, is evil and is going to kill us all and you want me to be rational? Is everybody here very stoned?"  
  
"Spike," Wesley began softly.  
  
"You!" Spike snapped, launching across the table again and wrapping his unendingly strong hand around the younger Watcher's throat. "You come here, telling us this utter crap and expect me to believe that Peaches didn't have a hand in..."  
  
"Willow found it," Giles stated simply. Spike's gaze flashed amber and locked on Giles. The Watcher swallowed, but held his ground. "Actually, a coven we associate with in England brought the possibility to our attention, and Willow served as a conduit. I recorded it. Wesley translated that which I couldn't understand. You read it yourself, Spike. It isn't nonsense."  
  
"And Angel knows nothing of it," Wesley added as soon as Spike loosened his grip on the younger man's windpipe. "I assure you, if he did, regardless of your past, he would do anything to save Buffy from suffering."  
  
Spike slowly lowered himself back to his seat, trying to process that thought through his spinning brain. As much as Angel sometimes despised him, they'd reached a sort of tenuous truce since Emma had been born and since his Grandsire had taken up with Cordelia and settled into raising his own son.  
  
Wesley was right, though. Even at their most volatile, Angel wouldn't create something that would cause Buffy so much pain. Didn't fit into his whole Champion of Atonement style.  
  
A deep breath and Spike began to grab hold of his reeling thoughts. "Talk, then."  
  
Wesley looked at the papers, then at Giles, then back at Spike. "The Prophesy, as you saw, seems fairly straightforward. Amazingly enough, it's not as cryptic as most."  
  
"Not helping," Spike growled, his eyes flickering between sky blue and the dark amber of good ale. "What do we do about it?"  
  
Giles sighed. "That's the rub, isn't it? We've pooled ideas and."  
  
"Can't we see if Emma can go back and talk to that pretty bint that she and Cyrus work for? Mean, they're the all powerful and ."  
  
"We've thought of that," Giles interrupted. "And it's not a bad idea; however, it only addresses part of the balance."  
  
Spike quirked an eyebrow at the Watchers, his hand clenching and unclenching atop the table. A kind of release. The only one he could think of without beating the tar out of one of the men in front of him.  
  
"The theory being," Wesley continued, "that for every force as powerful and positive as the Peacemaker, there must be an equal and opposite force for Evil."  
  
"Your unborn child," Giles said quietly.  
  
Spike tightened his jaw. "If you *ever* refer to our tot like that again, I will rip your throat out and serve it to Pony with his kibble."  
  
Giles swallowed, nodding. "The fact being," he continued, his voice a little shakier, "that the ultimate in Good, The Queen of the Sky, can only affect the balance in one direction. She cannot address the forces of Evil directly."  
  
"Not following," Spike snapped, annoyed.  
  
"The forces of Evil would also have to be addressed, and convinced to drop their claim upon any child of the One," Wesley explained.  
  
A frustrated chuckle escaped from Spike's lips. "Right. So, we toddle back down to our friend Luke's little palace of red velvet and ask him nicely to not turn our Mite into Satan incarnate. That the idea?"  
  
"Not quite," Giles answered. "The idea is that we bring them all together in one, more neutral, place and see if we can come to an amicable resolution for all."  
  
"Not bloody likely. What d'you plan on offering them, hmm? Blood of the innocent? Sacrificial lamb?"  
  
"What will you do to save your child, Spike?" Wesley asked earnestly, his eyes softening at terror and heartbreak right behind the anger in Spike's eyes. "Because there is only one other option."  
  
A yellow gaze locked in on Wesley. "Oh, yeah?"  
  
Wesley nodded, unafraid. Spike may be a lot of things, but he was no longer a killer. Still, he could see that they all may be in for a few bruises before all was said and done. "Unfortunately, yes."  
  
"And what might that be?" Spike growled between clenched teeth.  
  
"If we do not try to circumvent the Prophesy by striking an agreement with the balance of forces, and possibly sacrificing our very existences, then the only other option we have is for Buffy to terminate the pregnancy."  
  
It took less than half a second for Spike's clenched fist to travel from its resting place on the table to the spot where it connected with Wesley's jaw, sending a spray of blood from the side of his mouth. Wesley's head jerked back into the seat, Giles catching him before he fell from the booth, and came to rest against the wall. Dazed eyes danced over the table and back at Spike.  
  
"Can't say I didn't expect that," Wesley muttered, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth. "But I dare say that you should focus your anger on those that have caused this situation, rather than those that are trying to help."  
  
A terrifying grin broke across Spike's face. "If your idea of *helping* includes killing our *child*, then I'm thinking we don't need it."  
  
"Spike," Giles began, his voice trying its best to be soothing.  
  
"No," Spike interrupted simply. "No more talk. Organize this meeting that you've got all sussed out and let me, not Buffy, know how much to pay the piper. Now," he continued, standing up from his seat in the booth, "I'm going to find my girl. Don't want to hear another *word* bout any other options, 'specially not in front of her. Are we at an understanding?"  
  
Both Watchers nodded, more afraid of the calm, cold tone that Spike had adopted than they had ever been of his anger.  
  
"Right then." With that, Spike nodded, and disappeared out the back door.  
  
~~~~~  
  
Spike ran.  
  
He ran as hard and as fast as he could from that pub, nearly knocking over holiday shoppers in his path. His feet moved at the speed of light, pounding the pavement with all the fury and anguish spreading from his heart to his very limbs. Tears streamed down his face.  
  
For him.  
  
For Buffy.  
  
For their child.  
  
As soon as he'd removed himself from the messengers, the message hit home. And the anger turned to pain and the pain to hurt, and the hurt to agony.  
  
He stopped in an alley. He wasn't sure where. Didn't care. It was familiar and safe and he couldn't run anymore.  
  
Slowly, Spike crumpled to his knees, tears of horror and pain streaming down his face, thoughts of Buffy. God, of Buffy lying there on some cold table, alone, having some faceless doctor. No. It couldn't. This couldn't.  
  
There were no words.  
  
He didn't know how long he knelt there in that alley, growling in rage and sobbing in torment before he felt a hand on his shoulder, and heard the rustle of soft skirts as a body nestled next to him, taking his head against her breast and beginning to rock him softly.  
  
Thoughts of his mum holding him and his sister when they were wee flooded him as he cried into the soft shirt, his hands involuntarily clutching tender arms, the delicate scent of safety surrounding him. Cradling him. Letting him be weak for just a moment.  
  
"Shhh," a sweet, gentle voice said. "I. You need this, Spike. You need to be safe here now. But as soon as this is over, I need you to be strong for Buffy, okay?"  
  
Spike ventured a glance up, his eyes burning from hot tears. Tara held him close, rocking him, stroking his hair like a mother would a child's.  
  
"Buffy," he whispered, his voice choked and burned.  
  
Tara nodded. "She's not hurt. She's in there."  
  
Another nod brought Spike's attention to a familiar back door. His senses had taken him right to her. Right to the Magic Box.  
  
"Willow is watching her beat up a poor defenseless bag," Tara said, smiling softly.  
  
"Should have known she'd come here," Spike answered, voice still strained, as he tried to straighten up. Tara put her hand in his; letting him cling to her, draw strength, a moment longer.  
  
"You did know," she answered, her smile thoughtful and intuitive.  
  
Spike tried to return it. "Guess I did." He was quiet a moment, trying to stop the unending stream of tears. "She all right?"  
  
"No," Tara answered. "Neither are you. And how could you be? But together you're stronger."  
  
Spike nodded. "Unbeatable."  
  
"Then don't think this can beat you either," she said simply. "But she needs you. She wouldn't talk to us. Willow is just sitting on the couch watching her, making sure she doesn't do too much. And talking, like Willow does."  
  
"Red's always good for that," Spike chuckled, trying to reign in his raw emotion and take control of his rattled mind. "Need to go find her."  
  
Spike stood, offering a hand to Tara and helping her from the concrete. She stood gracefully, never taking her eyes off of Spike. "You're a good man, William," she said softly. "And Buffy is a good woman. There must be something to that. We'll find a way."  
  
He nodded, watching her soft, comforting face trying to hide her own fear. "I want to thank you for."  
  
Tara smiled. "Don't mention it."  
  
Spike chuckled. "You either."  
  
"I won't," she answered, a sly smile spreading across her gentle features. "Unless I have to."  
  
Again, Spike let out a little laugh. "In there?" He asked, pointing toward the door.  
  
Tara nodded as Spike walked towards it, his body tense and shaking just a bit. She watched him reach for the knob and open it, and then Willow come darting out, running in tears for Tara.  
  
Spike looked back at the pair just once, and then took one last deep breath, summoning all his courage, and went into the training room.  
  
To be contd. 


	18. The Sound and the Fury

Hello, All,  
  
This has been a trying week, both personally, and with writing. Much real life angst combined with the need to write some fairly heavy stuff.  
  
I can only hope that my portrayals of the character's reactions are what you would hope them to be. Or at least, think they may be.  
  
That, and promise you a happy ending. At least in fiction.  
  
Thank you all for reading. I wish you the best in this New Year.  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
  
  
Title: The Sound and the Fury (Chapter Eighteen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
And present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike goes to Buffy and faces her for the first time after the revelation about their unborn child.  
  
The Sound and the Fury  
  
He breathed. In. Out. In. Out. He breathed. It was all he could think of to do.  
  
That, and watch her.  
  
She threw punch after punch against the bag, her hands bare and raw, sweat mingling with tears and running down her face in a torrent of silver. Her body moved with the grace and anger of a lioness, her muscles rippling under taut skin, her fury and her torment and her fear. God, her fear. exuding from every pore.  
  
"Buffy." He tried to speak, his tone gentle and kind. Tried to make her hear him in the little torture box she'd erected around her. "Buffy, Love."  
  
Punch. Kick. Grunt. Punch.  
  
He took a step closer. She almost physically pushed him back with the walls she'd put up to protect herself. "We need to talk."  
  
Spike saw the anger flash through green eyes, even in the darkened room. Another punch. Another kick. "Nothing to say."  
  
Okay. This was better. Hard, but better.  
  
"Maybe not. But we need to say it anyway, Pet." It was true. Until they figured something out, there really wasn't anything that needed to be said. But they needed each other. As close as they were, as much of their mind and body and heart that they shared, sometimes the sound of each other's voices was the only thing that could tether them together.  
  
"Then do it," Buffy answered coldly, spinning and walloping the bag with a roundhouse, ducking underneath it as it swung over her head, and attacking it from the other side.  
  
"Takes two to talk, Love."  
  
"Not what Willow thinks," Buffy retorted. Grunt. Punch. Punch.  
  
"Buffy."  
  
"What? What, Spike? Want me to tell you how I feel? What I think?" Another flurry of punches, the sounds from her mouth somewhere between exertion and heartbreak. "Want me to tell you what they said after I left?"  
  
Spike stopped, watching her again. How could she.  
  
"I don't know," she interrupted, reading his mind. Not from some gift of the One, but rather just from knowing the way he thought. "But I felt you, Spike. Not a whole lot that would have made you that hurt."  
  
"Buffy." He swallowed, holding back tears. "I."  
  
"They want me to kill my baby," she stated bluntly. Coldly. With no feeling. But Spike could hear her screaming inside herself. Inside her little box.  
  
"Our baby," Spike corrected, trying not to lose his mind. Wanting to pummel everything in sight.  
  
Like she was.  
  
"That it?" Buffy continued, her fists flying now, her tears raining down like a summer storm. "Wait, let me guess. We'll try something else first. Or a couple things. But that's the endgame, isn't it Spike?"  
  
"Won't let it happen," Spike responded, trying to move a step closer and watching her spin out of his reach to the other side of the bag, her hands bleeding. Her body shaking. "Won't let them take her away from us. Not now. Not ever."  
  
"But then she kills us. And Emma," Buffy said in that same, disconnected tone. Spike understood it, but it was eerie all the same. She was protecting herself from admitting any of this was happening.  
  
Problem with that is when the dam breaks, the flood waters rise.  
  
"Buffy, I won't let them hurt you. You know that. I won't let them hurt the baby either. And neither will you." He tried to be calm. Rational. But his mind was spinning with her hurt and his own.  
  
"Right," she chuckled, nearly knocking herself down with the force of the accompanying punch. "You want me to kill it too, don't you? So you don't have to watch your precious Emma."  
  
"Enough!" Spike screamed, his hand striking the bag with such force that it ripped from the ceiling, sending it flying into the far wall.  
  
Buffy looked at him for a second, shocked. Her face completely blank, now only two feet from him, with nothing blocking her from those eyes. Those eyes she drowned in a thousand times over.  
  
Spike watched her face change from that cold, angry blank. It was heartbreaking to see the tears rush up behind big green eyes. To watch her resolve waver and the walls come crashing to her feet. Even in his anger at what she had said, he knew, he *knew* she was dying inside.  
  
"Not going to let it happen. Believe me. Don't care if I have to give up everything I have to save you. To save her and Emma and Will. But I won't let them take her away from you, Pet. Don't even talk like that," Spike said, his voice crackling with anger, but on the edge of breakdown at the same time.  
  
"What." she took a deep breath, trying not to sob. "What if we have to?"  
  
"You won't," he replied coolly, afraid to look at her beautiful face and think of that cold table and her so alone. "Call me old fashioned, Pet, but in my day, people didn't consider this an option. It's not. Won't ever be, to me. You're my *wife*, Buffy. And she's my daughter. Not let any sodding prophesy, or hellspawn, or doctor, or *anyone* take her away from us."  
  
Buffy bit her lip and pushed on. "Spike, what if we have to?"  
  
"Enough!" Spike screamed again, spinning away from her, his fury taking control. Without thinking, he began to beat the wall as furiously as she had beaten the punching bag, his hands cracking the cement, his growls tearing through the air as if they were cracking it. "Enough! Dammit, Buffy. No."  
  
He could hear her sobbing behind him now, her walls falling to dust, but he couldn't look. Couldn't see. Couldn't face her. Not now. Not if she was even considering the option of letting them win.  
  
"Do you even want this, Buffy?" His turn to lash out. He kicked the sofa, cracking it in half. "Do you even want to fight? Or you just gonna give up and roll over and let them take my baby out of you like she never meant a thing? Serve her up to jolly old Satan on a platter."  
  
He heard her scream before he felt her blows.  
  
A wail pierced the air full of agony and anger, her fists coming down hard on his back, knocking him to the floor. He was dazed for a second, but hopped up on instinct, facing her. Her hands came in a dizzying flurry, pummeling him with bloody knuckles, her legs shaking. He fought her, careful not to land any blows of consequence, but his own anger not letting this stop.  
  
They danced. It had been a long time since they'd lost themselves in the music that was them. Her hands meeting his, her legs swinging, his body ducking and weaving. Catching her momentum and throwing it back at her, feeling his eyes blacken and his cheeks bruise with every step.  
  
Buffy amazed him with her power. Her speed. Her strength. Still she amazed him. Even though there would be no winner if they ever truly fought, letting her loose against him once again was one of the most beautiful sights he'd seen.  
  
Except for the tears.  
  
Tears streamed down her face as she fought. He hadn't noticed at first, but his own were burning his cheeks as they slid across marred flesh. She swung. He caught. She kicked, he spun. She landed, he knocked her back. Until all that was left was her.  
  
Banging on his chest with balled fists, screaming into the dark room, sobbing. Falling. Falling. Falling.  
  
He fell to his knees with her, catching her against his chest and pulling her closer, wrapping strong, shaking arms around her shoulders as her balled fists tapped against him almost forcelessly. She was sobbing now. Her whole body quaking with every choked breath, her wet face buried in his chest.  
  
And he could feel his own tears dampen her hair as he buried his cheek and held her.  
  
"Not going to let it happen, Love," he whispered. "No one ever is going to take this away from us. Yeah?"  
  
She sobbed, her hands now clutching his shirt, tearing it further. Spike tried to calm her, stroking her sweat-matted hair. "Spike, please. I don't want to give her back. Please don't let them take her from me. Please. I can feel her inside. She's ours, Spike. They can't."  
  
His eyes closed as he held her, his face contorting in silent anguish. "No one, Love. No one. I won't let them. I'll protect you."  
  
"Please," Buffy gasped, lifting her head to look at him with red, terrified eyes. "Please, Spike. I love her. I love you. I love..."  
  
Spike pressed his lips to hers, silencing her words, catching her sobs in this throat and returning them with a desperate kiss. She broke, staring up at his face for a moment, knowing, feeling.  
  
He wasn't going to let this happen.  
  
Neither was she.  
  
She pushed up on her knees, crushing her lips to his in a desperate plea for contact. Her hands grabbed the tattered remains of his shirt, ripping it off and sliding what was left over his shoulders as his tongue searched her mouth, seeking respite in her. Seeking solace.  
  
It took only a moment for their clothes to be scattered over the floor and a terrified, desperate lovemaking to begin. As if they could make sure no one could take her away from them by holding her inside forever. If they could make it stop just by loving alone.  
  
Because love truly does conquer all.  
  
And true love conquers even Hell itself.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
Buffy came to, curled tightly in a ball, Spike spooned behind her, his arm wrapped protectively around her. It was full dark now, and the moon shone through the faded glass of the training room.  
  
"You alright, Pet?" A comforting purr sounded in her ear as gentle fingers danced over bruises on her pretty skin. "You know. I never meant to hurt you. Not with words or with."  
  
She smiled softly, putting her hand over his. "I'm okay," Buffy whispered. "Is this how we deal with fear and fury now?" A soft giggle replaced some of the fear in her voice.  
  
"What? Beat each other to a pulp and then shag senseless? Sounds like old times, Pet. Not broken don't fix it and all that rubbish," he answered, running a hand lazily down her spine and making her shiver as she giggled.  
  
Buffy lay silent for a long time, trying to still herself and feel. Feel him loving her. Feel her baby inside of her. Feel safe and warm and loved, even if it was just for a moment.  
  
"I'm so sorry, Love," his voice whispered, planting a gentle kiss on her shoulder.  
  
She rolled to face him, her eyes shut and a small smile on her lips, savouring the moment of peace. "No, I'm."  
  
Her words were cut short as her eyes opened to the damage her anger had done. Spike's face was bloodied, his nose cracked, lips bleeding. Both eyes were black. One was swollen shut.  
  
"Oh my God," she whispered in horror. "Oh my God."  
  
"Buffy," he whispered, not knowing how bad the damage was, knowing it hurt a hell of a lot but feeling her hurt inside was so much worse.  
  
Tears sprang to her eyes once again as she freed her hands and ran them over his face. "Spike." Tears choked her voice. "Oh God. I."  
  
"Buffy, we both did things. Said things."  
  
"No," she said softly, her fingers grazing broken skin, hoping, praying she could put this back together again. "I have a couple of bruises."  
  
"Shh," Spike whispered, stroking her hair and trying to calm her again. There was enough in store for them. She didn't need to be any more upset than she had been. Wasn't good for her and wasn't good for the child she was protecting. "It'll heal." He smiled a little, trying to kiss away the tears that had begun to fall slowly from her red eyes.  
  
"I can't. why? Why do you forgive me? How do you forgive me?" Buffy whispered, her voice so thready and small. "Why do I keep doing this to you? Why?"  
  
"Buffy," Spike said softly. "You are the Slayer. I am a Vampire. This... this is what we do. What we've always done. The dance is part of us. We've held it back, but it's still part of us."  
  
She swallowed, her eyes still glazed over with tears. "But I. I just. your face."  
  
"It'll heal," he whispered, kissing her forehead. "But can't have any more of that. Tot can't be comfy with all that banging round in there."  
  
Buffy chuckled through the tears, feeling them both with her for the first, true time. Feeling how much love there was between them. More than any mortal could ever understand. "Spike, I'm sorry. I can't take it back, but I can say I'm sorry I hurt you."  
  
He smiled, making a show of wiping blood from his lip. "You'll make it up to me somehow."  
  
Snark. Every Vampire's most deadly weapon.  
  
Except..  
  
"As a matter of fact," Buffy whispered her voice now a kittenish purr. Her mouth moved over the cuts on his face, sealing them, kissing them clean, her tongue laving over raw skin. Her body pressing hard and firm against his. "I think I might start now."  
  
"Buffy, you don't have to. I was just.." Spike babbled as her hands explored the rest of his body, rendering him nearly senseless and completely at her mercy.  
  
"What?" Buffy responded, knowingly. "Make love to my beautiful Vampire husband and help him heal? I know I don't have to. Selfish that way."  
  
Spike hummed in response. "Right then, selfish it is."  
  
To be contd. 


	19. Respite

Hi, there!  
  
Wow. Another on time chapter! Who'd have thought it?  
  
I am thinking that next week will be an NC chapter of Meant to Be, but I'm not quite sure what I'll do yet. Either way, I'll work on some Sput for you. I miss it too(  
  
I want to send an enormous thanks to my betas, Pat, Lindsay, and Melissa. They had to work a bit harder this week because I was somewhat distracted by RL, but, as always, they got me through.  
  
So, thanks.  
  
And enjoy the chapter!  
  
~~@ Nimue @~~  
  
"And though she be but little, she is fierce." ~ William Shakespeare ~ A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
  
  
Title: Respite (Chapter Nineteen - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
And present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: A relatively angst free break from the drama. Spike and Buffy deal with the repercussions of their argument, but find out that some things are still right with the world.  
  
Respite  
  
The phone rang only once before the line clicked on. "Xander?"  
  
"They're here. My house," he answered, reading her mind. "Thought that we'd have a little sleepover tonight and then maybe take them to Disney for the weekend."  
  
Buffy sighed her relief into the receiver. There was nothing more she wanted than to go home and climb in her bed with her Vampire and their kids and sleep for three straight days, but the thought of the babies seeing the two of them.  
  
They weren't old enough to understand that this wasn't right. This was bad. Bad. You didn't go around beating people up, especially people you love. The fact that their natures and their abilities, their true selves as Vampire and Slayer, made it possible for them to fight in this way was too much for their children to really understand. At least now.  
  
"You okay?" Xander's voice was nervous, as if he wasn't sure what to say, but he needed to say something.  
  
Buffy nodded, leaning against the training room wall, then realizing he couldn't see her. "Um, I guess."  
  
"They told me," Xander continued. "Just now. Buff, I didn't know."  
  
"I know," she choked. And she knew he didn't. Xander would have told her. At least by accident.  
  
"Is it bad?"  
  
She wrinkled her brow, watching Spike dress in silence. "What? I mean, the situation doesn't get much worse."  
  
"No, no," Xander corrected, sighing. "I mean, I know that. hell, Buffy."  
  
She swallowed, trying to keep the blissful calm that she'd had for a few moments lying in the shadows of the training room, curled against her one true love. "Just not sure I'm with the understanding."  
  
Buffy could hear Xander's mind working over the phone line. "I. I know that what's going on. I know it's. I can't imagine. Anyway, I just. I know you. I know Spike. How you react."  
  
A humourless chuckle escaped her lips and Spike cocked an eyebrow, buckling his belt as she leaned into the wall. "Yeah, it's pretty bad."  
  
"Do you need Takina to be there.? I mean, when you get home? Is it that bad?" Xander got it. Got that that was how they were. When things were really bad, they didn't talk; they threw insults, said things they didn't mean, pummeled each other, and only then could they really speak and get it done. Oh, and the make-up sex. But that was something Xander chose not to think too much about.  
  
"Um, probably," Buffy said, rubbing an angry bruise on her shoulder, and wincing at the dried blood on her lover's broken nose. "But we heal really well. I'll take care of it."  
  
"Spike okay?" Xander asked calmly, just trying to keep her together for a minute longer. She was all right on the phone. Sounding a little like Buffy.  
  
Another long sigh. "It's pretty bad, Xander. I mean, other than the mental stuff. I kind of. I rearranged his face. And I. God, why do any of you stay around me? Why do any of you love me?"  
  
Her voice broke into another sob and she almost dropped the phone. He groped for words that would show her he understood. That was just how it was. How it always would be. That Spike didn't mean to say the things he said, and she didn't mean to do the things she did. It just. it was part of them.  
  
The words escaped him.  
  
"Buffy. I.."  
  
Another sob and he could hear Spike cooing to her quietly and the rustle of the phone being taken away and lifted by another hand.  
  
"Harris," Spike growled into the phone.  
  
"I. I didn't mean to make her cry," he stuttered, hearing the sound of kisses and murmurs in the background.  
  
"No, Mate. Know that. Just. she's a bit . broken, is all," Spike said, his voice softening. "Both are."  
  
"I know." It was all Xander could think of to say. "What can I do? I mean, Emma and Will are here and I was going to take them to Disneyland for the weekend. Give them a break."  
  
Spike sighed, wanting to hold his children. But they wouldn't, they couldn't, understand. Not this. Not yet.  
  
"Thanks," Spike whispered into the phone, wrapping his arm around Buffy and pulling her into his chest. "Just."  
  
"Tell me what I can do, Spike. Please. God, you know I'm not all quick thinking man."  
  
"Nothing you can do," Spike answered. "Nothing more than what any of us are doing."  
  
"But Willow and Tara are doing the whole spell thing and Giles and Cyrus and Wes are working the research and."  
  
"And you're doing what we need most," Spike cut off. "Minding our tots while we suss this out. Taking care of them like your own. Right?"  
  
Xander smiled. Spike had this completely dichotomous personality sometimes. One minute, he's shouting obscenities as he beheads a demon, and the next he's comforting them all when he's the most in need of comfort.  
  
"I'll take care of them, Spike. I promise." He could feel his voice begin to crack. "Buff. Buffy said that it was bad but she didn't want Takina."  
  
"Send her over. Want the baby checked out," Spike interrupted, his hand caressing Buffy's belly softly as she clung to him. "Think she's fine. Didn't. I made a point of."  
  
"I know," Xander answered. "I know that, Spike. "  
  
"Just. she was pretty upset and I need to be sure." The Vampire's voice began to waver just a bit. He coughed, regaining his composure and taking on that gruff voice. "Send her by if you would."  
  
"She's leaving now," Xander said quietly as Spike heard the rustling of coats being put on and dinner plates being cleared. "You going to be."  
  
"Have to go, Harris," Spike growled, knowing he couldn't keep it together much longer and he had to be strong. Had to be strong enough for Buffy and still be able to think his way out of this. No one was taking their baby. "Thanks for minding the tots."  
  
"Course," Xander said, taking a breath to start another sentence and hearing, instead, the line go dead.  
  
~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~  
  
Buffy lay on the bed, moonlight pouring into their room and the desk lamp glowing softly on the bedside table. Spike paced along the wall, chewing the skin on his thumb as Takina began her examination.  
  
The doctor had brought a portable ultrasound with her that Spike had fished out of the car while Takina appraised Buffy's physical state. Now Takina had her lying there on their bed, her clean t-shirt pulled up to her ribs and her sweats pulled down just a little to expose the slight swell that would be their baby. It wasn't even noticeable yet to anyone but Spike.  
  
And her.  
  
She complained every day about how she couldn't button this or zipper that and ugh, she was going to be a moose this time and she didn't want to get fat and you'd think it would be easier the third time or wasn't there any way to just poof them into existence without all the beached whale part?  
  
And he always comforted her by telling her that she was never more beautiful than she was with a belly full of their child. That everything about her was more beautiful. The way she glowed. The way her breasts swelled and her hips curved and their baby grew. That he'd be happy to have her trot round the house naked at full term - but he'd have a hell of a time keeping his jeans buttoned himself.  
  
Now, he could feel her mind as Takina spread the liquid over her stomach. That she'd be uncomfortable and swollen and have to wear muumuus for years - but she'd do it, do anything, to save her child. To make sure nothing else happened. She'd be glad to feel the full weight inside of her and get kicked and crave pea soup and want to vomit every other moment.  
  
Spike doubted there would be much complaining this time round.  
  
But he'd still tell her how beautiful she was anyway.  
  
Spike's head spun when a reassuring 'woosh' started from the sound device attached to the little portable gadget Takina had brought.  
  
"That means everything's okay, right?" Buffy asked, her voice a little too jittery.  
  
"Right. Nothing to worry bout, yeah?" Spike said coming over to the bed as a grainy picture came up on the screen.  
  
It wasn't much, yet. And it was sort of hard to understand as the baby was only blob-ish at this point. Buffy was only a little over two months. But still she cried, looking at it. And still, Spike held her hand.  
  
"She seems fine," Takina said, smiling reassuringly. "Not that I suggest any more bar room brawls for the two of you."  
  
Both Spike and Buffy shook their heads like kids being told to never to do it again. "But no harm done here. Looks completely normal."  
  
Takina let them watch a minute longer, moving the paddle around to try and get an angle that might make sense to them. But there really wasn't too much to see at this point. "When you're a little further along, Buffy, we'll do another one so you can see her again."  
  
"Ev. everything's okay, though?" Buffy asked, her voice as small as a child's. Takina gave her some tissues to wipe herself down and clicked off the monitor.  
  
"You're sure?" Spike questioned, still holding on to Buffy's hand.  
  
Takina laughed. "Nothing at all wrong with her. Exactly what she should be at this point. No damage."  
  
She could hear both of them sigh as she packed away her kit and then stood up, her medical bag in hand. "Seems you might need a little work, though," she joked, walking towards the battered Vampire.  
  
"Be fine," Spike said defensively, taking a step back.  
  
"Spike." Takina's voice commanded.  
  
"Sit." Buffy's order.  
  
So the Vampire sat and let Takina clean his cuts and make sure his nose would heal straight. Buffy stroked the back of his neck, calming him, as the doctor worked, debriding wounds and suturing the worst of them. Spike refused a painkiller and insisted he'd heal without all this fuss. But both Takina and Buffy held him still on the bed, with glares and the feminine tool of guilt as their manipulation device, and his knowledge that Buffy would be wracked with real guilt if one of the blows she had thrown left a scar. She never meant to hurt him. He knew that. She'd said as much.  
  
It wasn't long before Spike was loading the equipment back into the Harris's minivan - a purchase over which Spike had given Xander quite a ration of teasing, but had to admit, it did come in handy for hauling large numbers of small people to events.  
  
Takina was silent as Spike helped her load up, until she was about to get into the driver's seat. "For what it's worth, Spike," she said, a little smile on her face, "after watching you two fall in love with a baby too tiny to make out, there's no way in hell *I'm* going to let them take her away from you. You've got me for whatever you need."  
  
Spike smiled, kissing her cheek and helping her into the car. "Means a lot. We do love her. Loved her before she was even there, I think." He slammed the car door shut behind the doctor. "But s'good to know we got you on our side in this."  
  
"You do," Takina whispered, patting Spike's hand as she started the car. "And don't worry about Emma and Will. She's taken to helping Xander with some carpentry projects in the garage. Well, he's letting her paint some of River's new furniture. And Will could just be sitting there staring at River and never be happier."  
  
That made Spike laugh. "Like father like son, I guess. Could look at Buffy all day."  
  
"Sap," Takina joked, patting his hand once more and then putting the car in drive.  
  
He put his hands over his heart as if he was wounded and she drove away, waving.  
  
~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~@~~~~~  
  
"So, Pet," Spike announced, coming back into the bedroom. "Hungry?"  
  
She shook her head, still a bit forlorn. But he wasn't sure making her talk right now was the best thing to do. She knew in her head at this moment that her baby was okay and the world was revolving and her kids were safe and that he wouldn't let anything happen to them. No more talking needed till she was ready.  
  
"Or," he said, sly grin on his face and eyebrow raised in that sexy little sentiment. He slid his way onto the edge of the bed and crawled up to meet her face to face. "Or," he whispered again, lips caressing her ear with his breath and his words, "I could run you a bath, then spend all night cleaning parts of you that you didn't know were. dirty. Pet."  
  
He enunciated the last word, letting it drip from his lips like spiced honey.  
  
She blinked up at him and he wasn't sure. was he losing his touch with her? She just stared at him for a minute, her eyes wide and still wet from tears.  
  
Finally, a little smile broke on her lips. "What is it with us? I mean, do most people just. fight and then have world ending sex when they get upset, or is it just us?"  
  
He returned her smile. "Just us, I think, Love."  
  
"Lucky us."  
  
To be contd. 


	20. Ignorance is Bliss

Hello, All!  
  
Been a hectic week, Chez Nim (West Coast Version). For whatever reason, my Muse is bopping back and forth between no less than four projects.  
  
Since I made you wait on Meant to Be last week, I decided that was the one to release tonight. I'll be working on a sequel to Trix as well, for the adult content audience. Other than that, I've got an original piece in the works, as well as trying to rewrite a classic, set in the BuffyVerse. Yes, an entire play.  
  
Anyway, I hope that this was worth the wait. The angst is back, but I'm easing you back into it!  
  
Enjoy and feedback is a must!  
  
In Beauty, Nimue "For it is in giving that we receive-  
  
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.  
  
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life. " - Prayer of St. Francis  
  
Title: Ignorance is Bliss (Chapter Twenty - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found at:  
  
And present chapters are being posted on my live journal at:  
  
Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike and Buffy enjoy a little private clean-up time. That is, until, their privacy is interrupted by what was once their teenaged fan club.  
  
Ignorance is Bliss  
  
"Okay.. So. Yummm," was all she could come up with to say as the tepid water splashed around her now sweaty form. How one could get dirty, or at least sweaty, in the tub was something that she hadn't quite figured out. But leave it to Spike to find a way.  
  
Spike lounged bonelessly back against the cool ceramic, panting, his hair a mass of tangled curls. "Redefines good, clean fun, doesn't it, Love?" His tongue pressed against his teeth and he smiled a devious little smile.  
  
Buffy had no choice but to return it. Not only was he too sexy when he did that, but he was kinda cute too. With his hair curly and unruly and this sly smirk that covered a little boy smile of sheer glee. Not to mention, it was truly difficult to be upset about anything after having not one, but two, mind blowing orgasms in a tub.  
  
He pulled the plug with one foot and the water began draining, but he made no move to leave the little shell of bliss.  
  
"Uh. Done with the bath, right?" Buffy asked, sitting between his legs, chin on her hands on the side of the bathtub.  
  
A water-warmed finger trailed down her back. She turned her head and watched him slide that finger into his mouth and taste it; pink tongue darting out to lick the tip. "Think we might need another. 'Less you want to smell like you just had a bit of a rumble in the bath."  
  
Buffy did her best to smirk and then chuckled. "Bath time bath this time. The rubber ducky clean kind?"  
  
Spike thought for a moment, boyish pout on his face, and then sighed deeply. "I suppose."  
  
Buffy laughed again, leaning back against his chest as he turned the tap on with his talented feet, refilling the bath with warm water. It made her wonder if there was any part of his anatomy that was not clever. Any bit of Spike that wasn't able to impress her.  
  
That thought ended as the bubble bath bottle went flying past her and hit the mirror across the room. "Stupid, sodding."  
  
"That evil elixir of the devil," Buffy finished, getting up onto her knees and retrieving the slick bottle from the floor where it landed. "You know, these things can get wily. A menace to bath time at large."  
  
She pulled off the cap and poured vanilla and rose scented liquid under the water, filling the room with the most delightful smelling steam. A little sexy.  
  
No. This is clean bath, she reminded herself.  
  
"So, Pet," Spike purred, pulling her back down between his legs and wrapping his arms around her as she lay back into his chest. "What do we do for an encore? Don't know if I can top that bit of maritime lore."  
  
Another chuckle from Buffy. "Uh, you always seem to be able to top the last time. But this one's strictly for cleaning, Vamp boy. Take this and start swabbing the decks."  
  
She handed him a loofah, leaning forward and grabbing his ankles, so that Spike could reach every inch of her back. He thought a moment, thinking of how big and bad he really was at this point and decided that his life as a renegade was pretty much over. No more were the days of pillage and loot. Nope. Back scrubbing.  
  
And then she started to moan quietly as he worked the suds into her skin and he rethought the pros and cons of his current raison d'etre. A squirming, moany Slayer, naked between his legs.  
  
Oh yeah. He was still the Big Bad.  
  
That thought was quelled as footsteps traveling at roughly the speed of light thundered up the stairs and the bedroom door flew open. Spike and Buffy both shot bolt upright in their thankfully full tub, waiting, muscles tense. Bodies tight.  
  
"Buffy! Dammit. Spike!"  
  
Dawn.  
  
Before either of them could get out of the tub and locate something more decent, not that they had anything as neither of them were too hurried about the concept of putting clothes on, the younger Summers burst into the bathroom, waving her hand wildly in front of her face to clear the steam.  
  
Buffy sunk lower in the tub, pressing back against Spike. Crap.  
  
"Uh, hi?" Summers-the-elder answered, annoyance in her tone. "And can you get the hell out of the bathroom?"  
  
Spike sat stock still, not quite sure what to do. Getting up was not an option, as not only was he not wearing anything but his lower brain was on overdrive, reminded of his own bigness and badness. Buffy had sunk lower and was now pressed against him, making matters a bit worse.  
  
"No, I can't get out of the bathroom!" Dawn screamed, putting her hands on her hips. "What the hell do you think you're doing?"  
  
Buffy looked back at Spike without moving. She realized the situation was a bit worse than what could be seen above the heavy suds, and knew that wiggling wasn't going to make it much better.  
  
"S'called bathing, Pet," Spike answered, trying to keep his tone even. "A lot of us do it."  
  
Dawn smirked, hands planted firmly on her hips. "I got a call from Willow," she continued, her voice cold.  
  
Spike nodded. Buffy's head dropped. So, that was what this was about.  
  
The younger girl's voice lowered, her anger turning into fear and sympathy. "Why didn't you call me? Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"Sort of busy, Dawn," Buffy said quietly, never raising her eyes, her voice becoming hollow. Solemn.  
  
"What? Too busy screwing Spike to ."  
  
"Niblet!" His voice was sharp. Clear. "Enough."  
  
Dawn's eyes flitted to Spike, flames in her gaze. "You should have called."  
  
Buffy looked up, teary, but her voice was more angry. "Last I talked to you, Dawn, you didn't want to hear from us again for a while."  
  
Dawn thought for a moment, remembering her admonishment after picking her sister up from police custody. "Well, I didn't mean."  
  
"You didn't qualify it much," Buffy interrupted. "Besides, there's nothing.. We haven't figured out what to do."  
  
The steam began to clear out of the bathroom, leaving Dawn a better view of what was going on. Yes, they were in the bathtub together. Yes, they were definitely. so they weren't doing the social hot tub thing with the bathing suits and the martinis. But . God.  
  
Spike was covered in bruises of all shades of black and purple and sickly green, stitches over his eye and cheek. Lip split. Eyes dull. Buffy was slumped against him. Shoulders bruised and arms shaking, her hands raw and bloody.  
  
They both looked afraid. Terrified.  
  
"Buffy.. Spike. I.."  
  
Buffy turned her head away from her sister, burying it in Spike's shoulder as he wrapped his arm more tightly around her.  
  
"Niblet, why don't you go to the kitchen and put on some tea, right? Be down in a few minutes and tell you everything, all right?" Spike said calmly, his fingers ghosting over Buffy's back as he spoke.  
  
Dawn nodded numbly, the tableau of how bad things really were painted just for her to see. Maybe she didn't want to know after all.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
Dawn was sitting on the counter, a soup bowl sized mug of tea on one side of her, a bottle of Jim Beam she'd pilfered from Spike's collection on the other side. She'd already doctored the tea and was old enough not to hide it anymore.  
  
Spike walked in, a pair of loose blue sweats hanging low on his hips and a white shirt thrown over his shoulders. His hair was still a tangled mass of curls and he smelled like Buffy. Like roses and vanilla. It made Dawn smile.  
  
"Hey," she said as he made his way over to the cupboard, taking another enormous mug and skipping the tea altogether, pouring himself a generous portion of Kentucky's finest. "Not a good day."  
  
"No." It was simple. Quiet. But that one word made her feel the despair that she'd gotten a glimpse of upstairs. A word full of power and emotion.  
  
"Guess not," Dawn repeated in the same quiet tone, taking a swig of her drink and coughing a little.  
  
The corners of Spike's mouth quirked up a bit. "Aim for a little more tea and a little less rotgut next time, Pet."  
  
Dawn tried to smirk, but didn't feel much like putting in the necessary effort. She took another sip, swallowing smoothly, and set the mug next to her. "Gonna tell me what's going on?"  
  
Spike's head dropped and he ran a hand through his hair. "Short version only, Love. Don't really have it in me to."  
  
"Short version," Dawn agreed, pulling a stool in front of her with one long leg and tapping her foot on the top. Spike looked at her for a moment, so different from her sister and so much the same, and sat down on the offered stool.  
  
"Seems that Rupert and Red got notice of a new little Prophesy 'bout us. Called in the troops from Angel-ville to suss out their take."  
  
"Angel's here?" Dawn said, beginning to bristle. She didn't really *know* Angel. Not really. But she did know that he and Spike weren't best of friends and if there was any Vampire she was backing, he was blond, living in her mum's old house, and sitting four feet away.  
  
Spike shook his head, taking a long pull of whiskey. "No. Watcher Jr. Wesley."  
  
"Faith's old Watcher?" Dawn asked, remembering pictures of a geeky guy in a seersucker suit.  
  
The Vampire nodded. "Though he's a bit rougher round the edges now. Guess losing your charge and spending a few years in the company of Peaches will do that to a bloke."  
  
Dawn laughed. Spike got more and more . Brit. when he got upset. Spike had to smile back at her. It'd been a while since he'd spent any time with her. Even in these less than optimum circumstances, it was nice to have his Niblet's full attention.  
  
"So, Wesley came and." Dawn prodded, taking another sip and grabbing for the whiskey bottle. Spike snatched it away.  
  
"Plan on sleeping here, Love?" He asked, his finger hooked under the rim.  
  
Dawn sighed, shaking her head. "No. Brian's at home in."  
  
"Don't want to know.," Spike interrupted. He knew quite well what Brian was home doing, or recovering from or waiting for. Much the same as what he'd just enjoyed with his own love of his life. But knowing it and hearing it. "Don't get any more of this then, do you?"  
  
"Okay, okay," she conceded, sipping at her now-mostly-tea. "So, Wesley came and."  
  
Spike's head lowered and he swirled the liquid in the cup, watching it whirl around the pale blue painted ceramic. "Sorted out what Rupert and Willow already knew."  
  
"About. about Buffy's baby?" Dawn said tentatively, her face dropping to try and catch his gaze.  
  
Spike nodded slightly. "Our baby," he repeated. "Since I had a hand in it and all."  
  
Guilt swept over Dawn in waves. However, Sunnydale had taught her one good trick. Humour always helped take back the bad. "Don't think it was a hand, Spike."  
  
Red spread across his cheeks in a bright wave. She smiled. He blushed. Dawn made William the Bloody blush. Go Team!  
  
"'Nough out of you, Pet," Spike finally said, recovering from the momentary shock of having what was once his fifteen-year-old fan club say something particularly naughty. "Sure you know more than enough by now, much as I hate to admit it. But let me keep the fantasy that you sit round that apartment of yours playing Scrabble with the boy and sending him to the couch when you're through, all right?"  
  
Dawn smiled, chuckling. "Right. Scrabble. Oh, and s'mores. We eat s'mores. And he sleeps on the porch. Outside. On a chain. And he hasn't found the key to my chastity belt yet."  
  
Spike nodded, a smile spreading. "Better."  
  
"Glad to be of help." She took another sip of tea, watching him take another pull from his whiskey. "Now you going to let me be with the other thing?"  
  
"See your grasp of the Queen's English is up there with your sis," Spike joked, trying not to think about the rest of this conversation.  
  
Dawn wasn't letting him get away with it. "Spike."  
  
He sighed, staring at the amber liquid in the blue ceramic. "Nothing you can do, Love. Not yet."  
  
"What's the plan? I mean, I'm the Key still, right? We can open some dimensional portals and kick some butt or something, right?" Dawn asked, knowing that nothing in life had been that simple in a long, long time. But a girl could hope.  
  
A long moment passed before Spike spoke again. "Not sure what we can do, Pet. Seems that this week's winner of the Prophesy sweepstakes says that the Mite Buffy's. Well, that the dark hats will have some hold on the tot. That she'll be. that she'll want to do us in. Us, Emma.."  
  
Dawn watched it pass over Spike's face like a rain cloud. The darkness. The sadness. Darker than any bruise. Any suture. Any anything. Horrid sadness crushing him right in front of her.  
  
"Spike?" Dawn asked quietly.  
  
He didn't answer at first. "What is it, Nibs?"  
  
"They haven't won yet." It was a simple statement. But so true. So full of truth.  
  
"No, Pet. They haven't," Spike said quietly, feeling a little stronger just for hearing it. "Tried though."  
  
Dawn sighed, hopping off the counter and walking over to her brother-in- law. "What makes you think they will this time?"  
  
Spike nodded a bit, letting her long arms wrap around his shoulders. "Dunno, Love. Just... feel so helpless. Can't even protect the tot properly. Can't even hold her.."  
  
"I know," Dawn whispered, hugging him close. "But you will. Both of you. And we'll win. Because it's what we do. You know. The good guys. We win. We save the World. A lot."  
  
Spike chuckled, kissing her cheek and gently standing Dawn upright. "Go home to your. Scrabble game. Plan your wedding."  
  
Dawn giggled like the little girl Spike remembered, and hopped up and down. "You have to win! I'm putting this off so Buffy doesn't have to wear a muumuu in my bridesmaid pictures."  
  
"Don't you ever say that to her!" Spike joked, punching her arm gently. "I'll never hear the end of it!"  
  
Dawn dodged out of the way, still giggling. She stopped at the back door, becoming quiet for a moment. "Spike, you'll win. I know you and I know Buffy. And you have me. I mean, I may not be all Super-Slayer or hottie- Vampire-fighting machine, but I can still help."  
  
Spike smiled, standing and finishing his drink. "You still think I'm hot, Niblet? Thought that ended years ago." He smirked. One full of effort and charm.  
  
"Vampires," Dawn muttered, shaking her head and letting herself out the back door.  
  
To be contd. 


	21. Out of Reach

Good evening, everyone.  
  
Well, I'm back on track, at least I think so! After a week off entertaining, I finally got some writing done and even got a wee bit ahead of the game. Still haven't finished the NC sequel, but it's coming. My poor Muse got sidetracked on another project!  
  
Anyway, the angst is beginning again, so be forewarned, and it will likely not let up for a while. But I will try to throw in some moments of light to keep it from getting too dark. And remember, endings are always happy in the NimVerse.  
  
Enjoy and please, I crave feedback. Send it my way!  
  
In Beauty, Nimue "For it is in giving that we receive-  
  
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.  
  
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life. " - Prayer of Out of Reach (Chapter Twenty-one - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found present chapters are being posted on my live journal All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: The weekend is over, and the SG reconvenes to try and figure out how to overcome this massive obstacle without taking the baby. Angst warning.  
  
Out of Reach  
  
The weekend was over far too fast. Sunday evening and they'd barely begun to heal. Looking at each other, the bruises and cuts were faded but visible, but seeing each other's eyes . the wounds were cutting far deeper.  
  
There had to be a way out.  
  
Spike walked around the lower level of the house, absently picking things up and putting them down again someplace else. He called it cleaning. It was more akin to pacing while carrying toys.  
  
Buffy tried to pull herself together upstairs. They'd slept, made love, thought, screamed, cried, for two days straight and neither of them knew what to do. Then again, they didn't have all the information, right? Giles and Willow and Wesley. they'd figure it out. They had the documents and those creepy pictures. They'd know.  
  
They had to.  
  
She heard the doorbell ring and hurried up with the dressing. Pulling her jeans up, she realized they wouldn't zipper. In all the upset about losing the baby, she was forgetting she had it at all. A sad smile broke on her face as her hand stayed over the pants that wouldn't close. Normally, this was the moment that the first hissy fit was pitched. Where she yelled at Spike for making her wardrobe outdated and she cried in the bathroom for half an hour because there was very little worse than being fat, in her mind. Being dead. Being without her family and friends.  
  
And losing this.  
  
Being fat wasn't so bad after all.  
  
Slowly, she slid the jeans down to her ankles as the bedroom door creaked open.  
  
"First lot's here, Pet," he said, as the door hit the back wall and bounced back towards him. Sometimes, he forgot his own strength.  
  
Buffy nodded, her back to him, her body still bent from sliding her jeans down. He watched her for a moment, rifling through a drawer, her back so tense that it could have doubled as a tight-rope.  
  
"You all right, Love?" Spike began, walking towards her. He saw her shudder once and heard a quiet noise.  
  
Tears.  
  
"Hey," he whispered, walking over to her and standing her up, turning her to face him. "What's wrong, Love? Other than the obvious."  
  
She chuckled, trying to look at him, but afraid to see his eyes again. The pain there. "My pants won't button," she answered quietly.  
  
Spike rolled his eyes, running his hands through her hair and looking down at the jeans pooled on the floor. "Should know better than to keep trying the tightest ones," he countered, kicking them away. "Probably shrunk them in the wash, Love."  
  
Her fingers wound into the t-shirt material at the base of his spine and she shook her head. "No, it's real." She let go with one hand and slid it around his waist, with her other hand taking his and running it over her stomach. "Miracle-Gro or something."  
  
Spike smiled softly at her. "Going to start the war already? How I'm a lecherous pig for destroying your collection of well fitted pants with my unending desire to have you in every position possible?"  
  
Through her tears, she laughed. "I kinda like that," she answered quietly. "The desire thing."  
  
"Good to know," Spike answered, kissing her neck just below her ear and making her quake.  
  
Buffy pushed him away and ventured a look into those endless blue eyes. "But I want my wardrobe to be completely useless. Totally non-fitty. And."  
  
The tears came back with ferocity as she wrapped her mind around it again. Spike felt her heart break and couldn't help but feel utterly helpless. He could help her make the baby, but there was little he could do to help her keep it.  
  
Other than go downstairs and find a way to destroy whoever was doing this in the most painful, ruthless way he could. And laugh as he did it.  
  
"It'll be all right, Buffy," Spike whispered, pulling her head to his chest and backing them towards the bed. "We can win this like everything else, all right? And I'm sure in no time, you'll be screaming your sodding lungs out because you have to move into those sexy jeans with the front bit missing and the giant fabric panel."  
  
Buffy chuckled, remembering the last time she'd had to wear those. She never did get huge, at least in comparison to her friends, but she still couldn't fit into even his sweats by the end. "You love them, face it."  
  
Spike sat her down on the edge of the bed, rifling through her drawer and pulling out a pair of regular jeans, a size or two too big. Made for Slaying rather than fashion. Slowly, he walked to her and knelt, pulling the denim over her feet, sliding it over her ankles, her calves. "I do. Love anything you are wearing. Love everything you aren't."  
  
"Perv," Buffy chuckled, tears still streaming down her face as he worked the jeans up her thighs and lifted her with one hand, pulling them the rest of the way up with the other.  
  
Slowly, gently, he leaned forward, kissing her lips. Not a hungry kiss. Not even a lazy one. Just a sweet, silent, closed mouth kiss, pressing his lips to hers as he buttoned each button around the small swell of her belly with ease.  
  
When she was dressed, he pulled away, looking at her softly. "Make sure even these don't fit in a few months, all right, Pet?"  
  
She nodded as he stood, pulling her up with him, then leaning in to brush the tears from her face with his thumb.  
  
"Need you to focus now, Pet. All right? Don't blame you for falling apart. Feeling a lot like that myself. But we need to suss this out. We can fall apart again later." His hand wrapped snugly around hers and he fitted his fingers into the spaces between her own.  
  
"I will. Promise," she answered, softly. He watched her, smiling, as she steeled herself visibly. Her sad, lost features becoming determined and brave. She'd be a horrid poker player.  
  
"Let's go then," Spike encouraged, kissing the top of her head and leading her out the door.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
The dining room table had become the center of a war room by the time they had made it downstairs. Books and slides and pictures and even white boards lay all over the room. A small TV with a VCR was at the edge of the table. Wesley, Giles and Cyrus were poring over slides and pages of dusty volumes while Willow was setting up some sort of circle in the corner.  
  
In the kitchen, Tara, Anya and Oz were occupying the wee ones making ice cream sundaes. So odd to have them here - the kids - when they were researching. But as Buffy did a mental inventory of the occupants of her house, she realized that there was no one left to take care of them, except.  
  
A knock at the door brought her back into reality. Buffy snapped to attention from her place near the stairs and turned, still hanging on to Spike, answering the door.  
  
Xander stood in front of her, River on one hip, sleeping soundly, and Will on the other, in much the same state. Emma stood next to Takina; both of them loaded with colourful, plastic, Disneyland bags.  
  
Buffy stared for a second, not sure what to do. She wanted nothing more than to take her two kids and flee back upstairs to the comfort of her room and hold them until they could barely breathe. But, at the same time, she didn't want them here for this. She didn't want to burden them with any more fodder for psychotherapy in the future.  
  
Thankfully, Spike took the lead, stepping in front of her and reaching out, taking Will from Xander's arm.  
  
"Thanks," Xander answered, his voice unnaturally quiet. "Willow called and said I should be here. I didn't know what to do with."  
  
Spike nodded, letting him in. "Seems that Glinda and the Wolf are setting up shop for toddlers in the basement."  
  
Xander shuffled in, Takina at his heels. Emma clung to Takina's hand until she crossed the threshold, face troubled and sad. As soon as she was through, she let go, running to her mother and throwing her arms around Buffy's waist, clinging for dear life.  
  
Spike saw Buffy's resolve waver and her eyes fill up. But she swallowed it, lowering to a crouch and smiling for their daughter. "Did you have fun in Disneyland?"  
  
Emma nodded, letting Buffy brush the hair from her face. "We went to Toon Town. Will got scared of Mickey Mouse though."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "Gotta work on that."  
  
"What? Six foot rat's a bit frightening to even someone closer to its size!" Spike defended, ruffling Emma's hair.  
  
Takina took River and headed to the kitchen, Spike and Will in tow, leaving Xander in the hall to face Buffy. He shuffled his weight from one side to the other, waiting. Not sure what to do with himself or his body. "How. how's everything?"  
  
Buffy averted her gaze to Xander. "Um. hard. Hard is a good word."  
  
Xander looked at Emma, not wanting to say too much. "What... what can I do, Buff?"  
  
She sighed, standing, pulling Emma against her hip. "Honestly, I don't know yet. "  
  
As Spike and Takina reappeared in the hall, Giles' voice called from the dining room. "Yes, I think we're ready to get started. Buffy? Spike?"  
  
The pair looked at each other and then down at their daughter. Spike leaned down to her eye level this time. "Think it's time you went in with the rest, Mite."  
  
Emma shook her head, tears falling down her face. "No, daddy. I can help."  
  
Spike hazarded a glance to Buffy who was a little wide-eyed, shaking her head. He returned his gaze to Emma. "I don't think that's a good idea, Love. There are some bad. bad things are happening. And they aren't about you. Don't want to put you in the middle of it."  
  
Emma nodded. "They're about her," she continued, putting her hand on Buffy's belly. Her fingers glowed at the touch. "And I am already in the middle. It's me that they want. And it's me that knows why."  
  
That took them a bit off guard.  
  
Spike rocked back on his heels, righting himself and trying to avoid the fear in Buffy's eyes. Giles had walked up behind his charge, Cyrus to his right. "Why's that, Pet?"  
  
"Coz I'm the one that beats them. in the end," Emma answered succinctly. "And they don't want that. Nobody likes to lose."  
  
Spike chuckled, nodding. "No. No one does."  
  
"And it's not her fault," Emma continued, patting Buffy's abdomen. "And I don't' want her to die because of me."  
  
Tears started down Buffy's face. Spike felt them long before he could see them, but he took a breath. Swallowed. Choked them back. "She's not going to die, Mite. And it's not because of you."  
  
Emma touched his face with the other hand, her little palms warm against his skin. "It is. And she can live because of me too."  
  
Spike's eyes opened, staring into hers. Blue clashing against blue, will against will in a gentle struggle for right. "Emma, I don't."  
  
Cyrus interrupted. "Spike, Buffy, if you don't mind my opinion, she may be able to help. "  
  
The blue glare of the father shot up to meet Cyrus. "Don't need your opinion. She's my daughter and."  
  
"And I'm theirs too," Emma interrupted, her eyes flickering skyward. "Maybe they can help."  
  
"Not to mention," Giles chimed in, his voice cautious and reverent, "she may be your child, Spike, but she is older than us all. Older than time."  
  
"She's seen worse, is what you mean," Buffy choked, her hand covering her daughter's, pressed over the baby.  
  
Giles nodded his agreement.  
  
Spike looked at the bunch like they'd all lost their minds, but when Buffy looked down at him, nodding gently, he relented. "Don't like this," he grumbled, standing, straightening himself.  
  
Emma looked up at him, stretching her arms towards him. For a moment, he let his eyes flicker closed, flashes of her in his arms on the day she was born, standing before him just now with bright, steel blue eyes. Every moment in between. But when he opened them, and she still stood there, arms stretched up towards him, he had to take her.  
  
Once more into the breach.  
  
Slowly, Spike leaned down, wrapping his arms underneath hers and picking her up, carrying her into the dining room with them. He may have to let her be there with them, but he wasn't about to let her be alone. Out of reach.  
  
Never out of reach.  
  
To be contd. 


	22. Balance

In Beauty, Nimue "For it is in giving that we receive-  
  
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.  
  
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life. " - Prayer of Balance (Chapter Twenty-two - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
For instant notification of fic releases, straight to your mailbox, please visit Always_Everyday@yahoogroups.com. Also, please visit Always_Everyday's sister group How to Make a Vampire Sundae for fiction with adult content.  
  
The rest of the story can be found present chapters are being posted on my live journal All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: The Scooby Gang has a meeting on what to do next, and some interesting information about good and evil comes out in the process.  
  
Balance  
  
The television flashed gray static silently at the edge of the table. Spike and Buffy had watched the tape of the message Willow had carried. The Prophesy. The room was silent, Buffy's hand pressed over her mouth, eyes wide but still holding their strength. Spike held Emma against him, her head lolled to his shoulder.  
  
She seemed sad, but not surprised.  
  
It was a bit frightening when a seven-year-old was unsurprised by horrible things.  
  
Spike took a breath to speak. Closed his mouth. Began again. Stopped.  
  
"Do we know what to do to prevent it?" Buffy finally asked for him.  
  
Wesley looked down at the piles of papers, written in his own hand, lying before him. From the looks of the size of the stack, he'd been working straight through the weekend. "I'd love to say that there was a pat answer, Buffy," he began softly, "but there isn't."  
  
"So, we just... let them do their worst then, is that it?" Spike finally contributed his voice gruff from anger and emotion. "No answer. They win. "  
  
Giles looked at the Vampire for a long moment, wanting to be angry. Checking himself. Looking at Anya standing against the wall, fidgeting. Imagining what it would feel like for him to hear the same news. "I'd like to think the answer's there, Spike. We just haven't found it yet."  
  
Spike opened his mouth for another verbal assault when Willow interrupted, trying to smooth it over. "Well, I ... I wouldn't say that we... that we have nothing. I mean NO plan."  
  
"Right," Wesley agreed, helping her out. "I'm sorry to have presented it as a hopeless cause. All I meant was, in most Prophesies, one can find a loophole. A glitch, like a spell missing a word. Something that takes away the potency. In this particular one, there seems to be no such glitch. In its simplicity, it has made itself seemingly foolproof. But that doesn't mean there is no way to counteract the potency from the outside."  
  
"Yeah," Willow agreed, her voice attempting brightness and failing. "I mean, there are other things we can try. You know. Sort of like you try to go for making peace first, but sometimes you can't and you have to go to war and then you just... have to win."  
  
Xander smiled at his friend, shaking his head. Willow trying to make war analogies was like a butterfly talking about assault rifles. It just didn't fit. "Well, then, what do we do?"  
  
"As we don't know what the loophole *is* in this Prophesy," Wesley began, rubbing a hand over the three days of stubble on his chin, "I believe our best bet is to attack this on multiple fronts."  
  
Giles nodded, his fingers massaging his temples. "Yes. We need to try and look at each angle. Approach each source of potential help and watch each outlet of evil that could be involved in this. In other words..."  
  
"Divide and conquer," Buffy said quietly. "You need us to split up to do this."  
  
Dawn sat on the hutch, Brian at her side. They'd arrived about half way through the video, but she'd already known the basics of what was happening after verbally accosting Giles at home the morning after she'd visited Spike. "So, what do you need me to do?"  
  
Giles sighed. "Dawn, I don't know that there is much you can do. Although..."  
  
"What?" Spike asked, his protective streak when it came to Summers girls coming out to play. "Not going to put her out there. Bad enough that Buffy and the Mite are a part of this."  
  
The Watcher shook his head. "I have no intention of endangering her, nor anyone else. Everyone's participation in this is voluntary, as we have no clue how this Prophesy is coming to fruition. "  
  
"Well, I'm in," Anya chimed from across the room. The whole group turned to look at her, not really expecting her to be the first to jump in with support. "What? It's a baby! I'm not letting them get babies. Even as a demon, that's just... wrong."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Leave it to you to cut to the chase."  
  
"It is," she grumbled.  
  
Giles nodded in agreement. "And that is why we are going to do our best to prevent this, but Buffy..."  
  
Spike's eyes narrowed as the Watcher looked at his charge. Buffy stared at him, stalwart and solid, nodding.  
  
"I know," she answered.  
  
"Know what?" Spike asked. "Don't think I was in on this part of the plan."  
  
Buffy looked over at him. "Spike, we haven't talked about anything, but I know what he's going to say."  
  
"What's that?" Spike asked, his agitation beginning to bubble to the surface. Emma shifted in his lap and faced him, her hands going to his face, calming him. She started to glow softly, her fingers cooling the boiling of his blood.  
  
Buffy swallowed. "I know that if we try everything, Spike, *everything*, and we can't find an answer, we're going to have to... we're going to have to talk more."  
  
Spike shook his head, Emma's palms still on his cheeks. "No, Pet. There won't be any more talk on that."  
  
"Spike," Giles said softly.  
  
Spike didn't raise his voice. Didn't move from Emma's touch. Didn't do anything but close his eyes and speak. "No. We find a way."  
  
The room fell silent for a long moment before the sound of Dawn's feet swinging back and forth into the hutch became a heartbeat to the room. "I... I'm with him," she said quietly.  
  
Buffy nodded, biting her lip. "Okay then." She looked to Giles. "What do we do?"  
  
Wesley answered first. "As Willow suggested, we start with the basics. A meeting."  
  
"Meeting?" Xander asked. "Like executive board of Hell?"  
  
Willow shrugged. "Well, kinda. Yeah. But it's worth a try."  
  
"Actually, the executive boards of both sides," Giles added. "And it is worth the effort."  
  
"How do you propose to pull this off?" Spike asked, settling Emma back towards the table and trying to bite back his anger.  
  
"Invitations?" Willow said, shyly smiling. "I was thinking that we could contact the ... well, Emma's other family, with her help."  
  
"Oh no you don't!" Spike snapped. "Not sending the tot anywhere."  
  
"Daddy," Emma said softly, "I... I go there. A lot. It's safe."  
  
Buffy and Spike looked at her, astonished. She left? Went somewhere? And they didn't even know? How? When?  
  
Questions left for later.  
  
"I hadn't intended to allow her to go herself," Cyrus continued. "I am an emissary. I will escort her. I assure you, this is the safest part of any of it, as nothing can harm her in her travels above. A move like that, even if I believe the forces of evil stupid enough to try it, would be an outward declaration of war not only against our Queen, but all of the Queens of Heaven. It would give them just cause to upset the balance of good and evil."  
  
"Isn't that what we're going for here?" Buffy asked, cocking her head. "I mean, the whole destruction of evil? Especially the evil doing this?"  
  
Cyrus sighed, nodding. "It is. But, alas, it doesn't quite work like that, Buffy. Were the Queens to intervene now, when the battle is in this plane rather than an assault on their own, it would change the context of reality."  
  
"How so?" Spike asked, cocking an eyebrow. Riling the Queens up sounded like a good way to solve this once and for all.  
  
"Well, first of all, as we said, it would tip the balance of good and evil. And as much as we are forces to fight evil – keep its numbers down on this level of reality – we cannot go without it. It is part of the fabric of existence on this plane." He sighed, looking at the blank faces in the room. The concept of total annihilation of evil is what these people had based their lives upon. Telling them that it was not possible was not going to make him the most popular man at the party.  
  
"This is not an ethereal plane. Not a Heavenly world," Cyrus began again. "It is a lower realm. Not like the Hell dimensions, but not like the Heavens either. It's a combination of both. True that this realm needs nowhere near as much evil as it does good to function; far less than it has, to be honest; but it needs *some*, or it becomes... extinct. The fabric crumples. I certainly am not purporting that this is good or bad. It is not mine to judge. Merely law. That in a lower realm, there must be evil or there can be no good. There can be ... nothing."  
  
"Wouldn't it just become all Heavenish without it?" Buffy asked, complete confusion on her face.  
  
"In theory," Cyrus answered. "But humans are not heavenly beings. Mortals, even semi-mortals, are imperfect. Made up mostly of good, but there is evil in all. It is just overcome by the good of most."  
  
Wesley and Giles seemed to be the first to wrap their minds around the concept and to guess the next logical next step in the argument. Wesley chanced putting it to words.  
  
"Total annihilation of evil would also preclude demons from this reality," the youngest Watcher said softly. "Of all sorts, and regardless of their current disposition."  
  
Cyrus nodded, his eyes flitting to Spike. To Anya. Giles looked down. His son was part demon. Takina. Oz and his two children.  
  
Half of the occupants of the room would be summarily obliterated were the balance to be destroyed. Just by the nature of their being, not by the content of who they had become.  
  
Buffy looked at Spike. Thought of Will. Of the child inside of her. Gone. Were she to succeed in what she'd always thought of as her mission, she'd be destroying her own, as well as the ones who were destroying those that she was sworn to protect. Her eyes closed. Another thing to try and wrap her mind around.  
  
"So, we must keep the balance," Cyrus completed softly. "Lest the other side have no grip on this world. They will not chance that to harm Emma in her travels."  
  
Spike nodded, the concept of who he really was... Vampire.... Demon... hitting him smack in the face for the first time in a very long time. "You'll stay with her?"  
  
Cyrus nodded. "She is my charge as well as my friend, Spike."  
  
"What about the other side?" Buffy asked.  
  
"That's where I come in," Willow replied. "I am thinking that I can send them a message without having to go there. We could probably do it to the good side too, but I don't know if I have enough to do both before tomorrow night."  
  
"Tomorrow?" Buffy asked, eyes widening once again. "Tomorrow?"  
  
Giles nodded. "Yes, Buffy. We need to act as soon as possible. Tomorrow is a fortuitous night, astrologically. So tomorrow it will be."  
  
"Where?" Spike asked, his brow furrowed.  
  
"Here," Wesley answered. "It is the most central location, not to mention that it's the only place that we can set everything up in time. There is no way that we can risk doing it over the opening of the Hellmouth, nor could we remove all of the rubble in time."  
  
That made Spike chuckle. "Right then. Looks like we're entertaining, Pet."  
  
Buffy shook her head. "Then what? I mean, there has to be a plan B."  
  
Giles nodded. "Several, actually." He stood, beginning to pace as if walking helped his brain function at this point. "Regardless of what truces we make, we cannot trust that the darker forces will abide by them. So we will have to watch them. Not only that, but we will be well served to follow their... associates... on this plane."  
  
"Okay, how?" Xander asked, his hands clasped nervously in front of him on the table. This is usually the part that spelled tortuous disaster.  
  
"This is where the divide and conquer part comes in, right?" Buffy contributed.  
  
Giles nodded. "A demon will need to go across, with Dawn's help, to the Hell dimension involved. The Red Mansion."  
  
A shudder went through both Buffy and Spike, remembering the treatment they'd both received at the hands of Luke. Giles caught it and countered it.  
  
"Buffy, for obvious reasons, I will not allow you to go. And Spike... you'll be needed here."  
  
"I'll go," Anya said quietly, again garnering the attention of the rest of the group.  
  
"You most certainly will *not*," Giles blurted, his own protectiveness coming out.  
  
"Who better?" Anya replied, picking up a carrot stick and munching quietly. "I mean, I've been there Rupert. I know the layout. I can keep an eye on them and not get lost. Besides, we know I can cross and we know that Willow can do that invisibility thing so I can't be seen."  
  
Willow nodded. "That one's easy."  
  
"And Dawn can let me in," the demon concluded, taking another bite of the carrot. "So, it really is the only logical choice."  
  
Giles turned red with anger. "You have other things to consider," he snapped. "Your son for example. And..."  
  
"All of us have other things to consider," she said quietly, walking towards him, wrapping her arms around his neck. "And I'm leaving my son in the most capable hands of anyone I know. And you're good with those hands, too."  
  
The Watcher blushed as she kissed his cheek. Buffy and Dawn both eww'd quietly and rolled their eyes.  
  
"I don't..." Giles wavered.  
  
"You don't have a choice. Just get me back and give me many orgasmic rewards."  
  
"And on that note," Xander interrupted.  
  
"S'very... brave of you, Pet," Spike said quietly, nodding his thanks to Anya.  
  
"Don't worry," she said brightly. "You'll owe me too."  
  
Buffy and Giles both shot glances at the demon.  
  
"What? In a totally non-orgasmic kind of way," Anya corrected, trying to get the evil glare away from her. Buffy and her Watcher both relaxed, nodding.  
  
"What else?" Buffy asked. "What do we do?"  
  
"Well, we really won't know until we see how this meeting tomorrow goes," Wesley answered. "We'll have a better idea of how to approach this once we find out what we're dealing with."  
  
"I'd agree," Cyrus contributed. "I think that the Queen of the Sky will have a good idea of what Luke and his company will do next once she's seen what he's up to as well."  
  
"So we wait," Spike grumbled, frustrated.  
  
Giles, Wesley and Cyrus nodded. "We wait," Giles finally said. "In the meantime, Cyrus, do you want to take Emma and...?"  
  
Cyrus nodded, walking towards Spike, who instinctively tightened his grip around her. "Now?"  
  
"It's only polite to give as much warning as possible," Cyrus responded, stooping down in front of them and taking Emma's hand. "Do you mind, my dear?"  
  
Emma shook her head, smiling brightly. "Nope." She turned her gaze to her father. "I'll be okay, daddy. It's just... you've seen it. It's not scary."  
  
"Maybe for you, Mite," Spike answered, leaning down to kiss the tip of her nose, then turning to Cyrus "If you let a hair on her head..."  
  
"I assure you," Cyrus comforted, patting Spike's shoulder and taking the little girl's hand. Emma hopped from her father's lap and let herself be led over to Buffy. She leaned up, kissing her mother's cheek, then headed upstairs, Cyrus at her heels.  
  
"Where does she go? How does she get there?" Buffy asked Giles as the group began to get up, moving around.  
  
"Apparently," Giles asked, "she can go at any time from anywhere. But she chooses her room because the fairies stay behind to protect the gateway."  
  
"The gateway?" Spike asked.  
  
"Moving from one dimension to another, no matter how well versed one is, creates a temporary gateway. If she chooses to do it, she leaves the fairies behind to make sure nothing enters or leaves other than herself. She told Cyrus that she doesn't want anything bad to come after Will," Giles responded. "I think that, an ancient being or not, her parents are still indestructible heroes to her."  
  
"Fairly," Spike agreed, smiling slightly and standing from his chair. Buffy got up as well and began to move towards him.  
  
"Spike?" Giles asked, before the two had reached each other.  
  
Spike turned his head, acknowledging the Watcher. "Yeah?"  
  
"Would you mind if we had a word in private?"  
  
Spike raised an eyebrow, but saw the seriousness in Giles's countenance. "Right," he agreed, softly, reaching out to Buffy and pulling her in for a quick kiss. "Guess I've got to go entertain daddy dearest."  
  
Buffy slapped his arm playfully. "I'm sure it's nothing. Or at least, nothing more apocalyptic, or he'd have me there too."  
  
Spike nodded. "Be back, Pet. "Another quick kiss to her nose.  
  
"Spike?" Giles called from the front door.  
  
"All right. Keep your pants on."  
  
Spike squeezed Buffy's hand and headed off out the door.  
  
To be contd. 


	23. Let's Brick

Hello, All!

Wow. Two weeks of MtB in a row! Soon the Vacation buffs will be asking for Master Spike and I'll be behind there.

Master Spike… behind… yuim.

Back to this worldJ Here is the next installment of the sage. I do hope you enjoy it and please do let me know how you feel. Feedback is always welcome!

Again, many thanks for reading! 

In Beauty,

Nimue

"For it is in giving that we receive-   
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned.   
And it's in dying that we are born to eternal life. " - Prayer of St. Francis

A quick, additional note. I know the chapters have not been showing up. I'm trying guys! I've posted this a grand total of EIGHT times so far in two different formats. If you still cannot find the story in it's entirety, please visit: 

.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

Title: Let's Brick (Chapter Twenty-three - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13 

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

Disclaimer: All characters (save for the ones I made up) belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Willow and Wesley plan the spell to deliver the invitation to Luke. Giles and Spike have a conversation that neither is particularly comfortable with.

Willow sat in the corner of the now empty dining room, setting candles around her in a small circle. Everyone had gone to do their own part. Cyrus and Emma were upstairs, hopefully convening with their little segment of The Powers That Be. Takina, Buffy, Dawn, Brian and Xander had gone downstairs to play with the kids. Giles had taken Spike outside for "the talk". No one was left to help her.

"Is there… could I be of assistance in any way?" A soft, low voice came from the doorway to the kitchen.

The Witch looked up and saw Wesley standing, his body framed by the glow of the kitchen lights. He looked so different. Almost as if he was a different person.

Then again, he probably was. They all were by now.

"I'm not… I haven't quite honed my toddler minding skills, and I doubt seriously that Spike would hear Giles out were I present, and my invitation to the meeting with the Queen… well, I guess it was never delivered." A small smile broke on stubble covered cheeks.

Willow returned the smile softly. "How's your magic? Oh, and normal person answer, not Watcher-speak."

Wesley took a step closer, coming into the dark dining room. "I'm not a Watcher anymore, Willow."

She paused, thought for a moment, opened her mouth to speak. She wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing for Mr. Wyndam-Price. But either way, it didn't much matter. She liked who he'd become, or rather who he was becoming. He was more… real.

A laugh. "Oh, I know. But, you know, once you learn the Watcher dialect, it's mighty hard to get rid of."

Again, Wesley smiled. "To answer your question, I'm not particularly powerful, but I've practiced my focus and concentration, and am fairly good at augmenting energies."

"And you speak Latin, which is of the good," she mused in return. "Sure, you can help. Not doing much. Just basically taking the invite," she held up a brick with a note tied around it, "and dropping it off."

A devious little grin took the place of Wesley's nervous smile. "You're going to throw a rock through the window of La Maison Rouge?"

"A magical one," Willow answered with a little head nod. "You know. For effect."

"Right," Wesley joked, standing just outside the circle. "May I?"

"Come on in and join the party," Willow returned, scooching back in the circle to make room for Wesley. "The only thing I need you to do is concentrate on the brick. I can raise it and drop it through the planes of existence, but if someone else can hold it up until it's time… you know, with the magic, not the hands."

"A simple levitation spell," Wesley answered, nodding at the basic, effective method she'd chosen.

"Pretty much," Willow answered. "I levitate it. You hold it there. I open a channel into the big old red house, you let go."

A chuckle escaped from Wesley's lips. "And I was thinking of ripping holes in dimensional walls and the like."

"Amateur," the Witch answered, playfully batting at Wesley's shoulder. "Nah, there's always an easy way. I don't usually find it either, but this time, I did."

She reached her hands forward, closing her eyes. "Ready?"

"I am," he answered, placing his hands atop hers.

"Then let's rock. Or brick."

~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

Giles leaned up against the porch railing, watching Spike sprawled bonelessly on the chair swing. The Vampire looked so relaxed, but Giles knew that, inside, he was wound tighter than piano wire.

This would not be an easy conversation.

"So, what's so important that we need to go away from the galloping hordes?" Spike asked, the only sign of his true mindset being the continuous jiggle of one, booted foot on the otherwise calm body.

Giles took a breath. "It's not that it's more important… just a bit… sensitive." The Watcher dug in his coat pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes and tapping one out of the pack.

Spike sat up, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. "Must be for you to break out the cancer sticks and risk the wrath of Vengeance."

A chuckle before Giles poked the smoke into the corner of his mouth, flicking open a worn, metal Zippo and lighting the cigarette with practiced smoothness. He offered the pack to Spike who shook his head once. 

Rather than put the pack away, Giles set it on the porch rail next to him.

"Spike, Wesley, Willow and I talked at length about how to combat this latest threat…" He took a long draw from the cigarette, blowing smoke out in a lazy stream. "We need to cover all fronts."

Spike nodded. "And I'd agree." He watched Giles for a moment, trying to read the Watcher and not getting very far past 'this isn't good'. "What is it that you want to say, Rupert? We can pussy –foot around all night, but it won't solve anything. Should know by now I'm a man of action…"

"Spike," Giles interrupted. "It's a bit more controversial than that."

The Vampire raised an eyebrow, his attention garnered. "Listening."

Another long drag and Giles pushed himself up to sit on the porch railing. "We have reason to believe that Luke is behind this…"

"Could have told you that git'd be involved," Spike contributed, shutting up quickly as Giles shot him an authoritative look.

"Yes, but if you don't let me finish, we continue to pussy-foot," the Watcher snapped, his voice full of annoyance. 

Spike nodded, submitting this once. It was his baby's future on the line. The least he could do was swallow his remarks. 

"As I was saying," Giles continued. "We also think he has an accomplice. From the scrolls and from indications in other texts that we have uncovered since."

Spike fidgeted, his hands clenching and unclenching in his lap. "Any idea who?"

Giles nodded, taking another drag. "We believe it to be Gwydion."

That, Spike hadn't expected. I mean, he didn't really think that the monster had disappeared when he had been forced to kill what was left of his father. Or when he and Buffy had gone against a possessed version of her ex. But Gwydion was in a different league than Luke.

Luke was the gnat of the Hell Gods. The kind that'd annoy you into oblivion, but really didn't carry enough bite on his own to pull off anything too dimension shattering – like removing the Peacemaker from the hands of the One.

Gwydion, on the other hand, was smart, very evil, and not about to take no for an answer. That much Spike had learned in the battle against his father. That concept was enough to scare him. More than he had already been afraid.

Spike leaned forward, gesturing at the pack of cigarettes that Giles had left on the railing. Giles nodded, tossing it to him, followed quickly by the lighter. "Right then, what do you need me to do?" The lighter flicked. The cigarette glowed. Spike leaned back in the swing, tossing the pack back to Giles.

"We need intelligence on him. His weaknesses," Giles answered, trying to keep his tone even. "He hadn't really made his presence known, or at least identifiable, prior to the advent of the One, so there is very little known about his strengths and weaknesses."

"Ruthless bastard is a start," Spike countered, taking a long pull and blowing the smoke out in a strong, steady stream.

Giles nodded. "True, but we need specifics."

"How?" Spike asked. "If you're right, then he's holed up in the big red house with his new mate Luke and I've got no free pass."

The Watcher closed his eyes and steeled himself. This was the part that Spike wasn't going to like and there was no point in dragging it out any longer. 

"Spike, he had… associates… while he was in this dimension. Close ones." He stared at Spike, hoping he wouldn't have to say it. "Mutual ones."

A long, silent moment. Spike's mind reeling. A familiar voice purring "daddy" at the monster who'd taken his father. That same voice finding him in a dark crypt, dying.

"Dru." It was a quiet admission of defeat.

Giles nodded. "Drusilla knows him, Spike. She knows what his strengths are. His weaknesses. She knows. "

Spike closed his eyes, leaning back against the wood of the swing. "And you want me to find her. Get it out of her. That it?"

Again, the Watcher nodded. "We need to know how to neutralize him if we cannot conquer."

"Don't know if I can do it, Rupert. Don't know if she'll even talk to me. Don't know if I can understand *her*. Don't … don't want to leave Buffy…" A pause while he thought on that one. "You know Buffy's *not* going to be all puppies and Christmas 'bout this idea, don't you?"

"I'll explain it to her, Spike. She trusts you. And she'd do whatever it takes to save her child, never mind existence as we know it," Giles answered, stubbing out the cigarette and sliding the filter into his pocket. 

Spike nodded. "No one else? Like, can't we dig up the Marquis de Sade or something? That'd probably be easier."

The Watcher chuckled. "This is the best chance we have to get any inside information on Gwydion. "

A deep sigh from the Vampire. "Don't even know where to find her, mate."

Before Giles answered, he proffered another cigarette from the pack, lighting it and tossing the pack to Spike. "I've located her."

Spike's eyes went wide. He'd spent years looking for Dru in the past. But the Watcher could find her in a weekend? "How? Where?"

"Funny, really," Giles answered, another plume of smoke escaping his lips. "I put in a call to Angel…"

"ANGEL?" Spike nearly screamed, jumping from the seat and lunging towards the Watcher. "You call the bloody poof and let him know how inadequately I can handle my own affairs and… I should bloody well tear your head off for that…"

"Spike, please," Giles cautioned, pushing the advance away with one hand. "Theatrics won't help and I've no doubt that you've no intention of ripping my head off my neck. So, please, let's continue this civilly."

A small growl escaped Spike's lips as he retreated, still standing, taking a nervous drag from his smoke. "Fine then. What did Peaches have to say?"

"To correct you, if I might, I did *not* tell him of any inadequacy, as I do not find one in the way you protect your own." It was a simple statement, but Giles meant it. Spike stopped, looked at the man, nodded his respect.

"What I *did* tell him was that we had a situation in Sunnydale relating to Buffy and her family and that we required his assistance. He offered to drive up, but I advised him that was unnecessary. That what we need from him is information. I asked him about Drusilla and, oddly enough, she'd been in LA recently. He inquired around and found that she was in hiding in a mission not far from San Diego, alone."

"Alone?" Spike asked. "Not like Dru to be alone."

Giles nodded. "Apparently, her association with Gwydion was not the first, nor the last, relationship of hers that went horribly wrong."

A pang of guilt went through Spike. Even if she was completely bonkers, and it was she who had taken his life and betrayed him repeatedly, he had always felt a certain responsibility for protecting her. Irrational, maybe, but real.

"She all right then?" Spike asked, extinguishing one cigarette and lighting another. 

Giles nodded. "Once Angel found her, he hired someone to keep an eye on her, both for our purposes and for…"

"Bloody well should. That bastard's fault that she's…" Spike blurted, not feeling love for her, but a sort of … sorrow. 

"Well, he said that he'd make sure she stayed there, and was taken care of. But I think it's safe to say that you have the best chance of extracting any information she may have, and possibly the only chance of deciphering it," Giles continued, chuckling slightly.

Spike shook his head. "Dunno. Bit rusty in the area of sack-of-hammers speak."

"The best chance," Giles repeated. "And when Angel offered to see what he and the rest of his crew could dig up, I did accept, because like it or not, any information, from any source, that will help us with … this… is welcome. "

"It is," Spike said, taking another drag. "But Buffy's not going to like this idea. "

"If you like, I'll talk to her." The look on the Watcher's face showed clearly that he was just as afraid of the task.

"No. I'll tell her." Another puff. "When am I supposed to leave?"

"After the meeting," the Watcher answered, stubbing out his second cigarette and stowing the pack back inside of his jacket. "So, then, am I to assume you will do it?"

Spike closed his eyes. Took a long draw. Let his head fall back. Was there even a choice? "Yeah. I'll go."

To be contd.


	24. Plan B

Good evening, all.

Sorry this chapter is a little late, but things are still rather insane at Chez Nim, West Coast campus. Thanks to all of you who have sent your wishes to my roommate. I've passed them all along. Your thoughts are much appreciated.

Hoping to keep up the steady chapter a week trickle, although I can't promise what with the whole hectic thing. But I will do my best.

The real angst is coming soon, so enjoy the pseudo-angst while it lasts.

  
Let me know what you think!

Kindness,

Nimue 

"All that we see or seem,

Is but a dream within a dream" - Edgar Allan Poe

A quick, additional note. I know the chapters have not been showing up. I'm trying guys! I've posted this a grand total of EIGHT times so far in two different formats. If you still cannot find the story in it's entirety, please visit: 

.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

Title: Plan B (Chapter Twenty-three - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13 

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please

Summary: Spike tells Buffy of her Watcher's Plan B. They have one last night alone together. How will they spend it?

Plan B

"So," Buffy said, walking onto the back porch and shutting the door behind her. The kids were now properly in their beds, their guests all gone and just she and Spike still awake in the wee hours of the morning. "Guess we're having a shindig tomorrow."

Spike took another drag of his cigarette. Giles had left the pack when he and Anya took their leave. The Watcher said it was to save himself from the wrath of his lady. Spike knew it was because Giles thought he might need one or two after this conversation with Buffy. And maybe one before. And during. Surely she was likely to be more upset about what he had to say than the temporary revival of a nasty habit.

"Seems we are, Pet," Spike answered, his back to her, standing on the top step and looking out over the yard like a king surveying his lands. He could feel the tension knotting his shoulders. Desperately, he wanted Buffy to just… hold him and make this stop. Selfish, really, he thought. But what he wanted nonetheless.

Alas, there was work to be done. Seems the One had many benefits, but having things come easily did not seem to be among them.

"Back to the old lung strangling?" Buffy nagged half heartedly, waving her hand in front of her face in an over-dramatic gesture. She walked slowly to his side, her tennis shoes quiet against the wood of the deck. "You know, you actually *need* those lungs now."

He nodded, not saying anything, but stubbing the butt out on the porch railing and shoving the filter into the pocket of his jeans. Wasn't worth creating something stupid to bicker about when he knew that they had plenty of bigger thorns to prickle their sides. "Sorry, Love. Some habits…"

Buffy nodded, surprisingly unwilling to engage in the normal banter on the subject, and leaned her head against his shoulder. "Just… I have enough to worry about without a sick Vampire, okay?"

Again Spike nodded, letting his head fall on top of hers and taking a breath of fresh air. He wanted to stay like this for a while. Quiet. With the voices in his head and the thoughts weighing down his mind all banished by her scent and the feel of her soft, golden hair under his cheek. 

Alas, there wasn't any more time to rest.

"We need to talk, Buffy."

She took a deep breath, not wanting to leave the peace of the moment, but knowing something was coming to disturb it. She had known since Giles had whisked Spike away from the meeting. It was not of the normal when her Watcher took her husband aside, and usually spelled 'Not Good" with a capital N… and a capital G. She'd been waiting for the aftermath ever since, torn between intense curiosity and complete and utter dread.

"I kinda thought," she resigned herself to saying.

Spike chuckled humourlessly, pushing himself away from her and taking a step down. He couldn't do this in the comfort of her embrace. It seemed… wrong. So, down the step. Turning to face her.

A breath. And then another. His mouth opening, thinking the better of it, and closing again. Spike was sure he looked like a large mouthed guppy landed outside its bowl. 

"Something you're not gonna like much, Pet." It was the only way he could think of to begin. Truth. There was nothing much about this she would like, except the chance it may give them to protect their child. Both he and Giles were betting that that shot was going to be worth a whole lot more to her than the rest.

"Kinda figured that too," Buffy answered, sighing and lowering herself to sit on the top step. She looked up at him with shockingly docile eyes, considering she had to feel the torment in his mind. Like a lamb being led willingly to slaughter, trusting that the leader would bow out just in time and rescue her. A look, a feeling that Spike was not used to relating to in his love.

"You know," Buffy began again, "what with the Watcher who suddenly goes all non-talky to me and has a little private smoking conference with his once sworn enemy? I figured it couldn't be something that I'd be jumping for joy about. You know, like a big shoe shopping excursion or something?" A quirky, nervous smile twitched at the corner of her pretty coral mouth. Spike tried to return it, knowing that she was at least attempting to make this easier. But he had a feeling that the attempts would soon stop.

Again, Spike let out a nervous chuckle. "Right then, you found us out. Our plan to send you to Manolo Blahnik has been foiled by footwear demons and we can no longer offer you a buffet of sandals for your choosing." 

Buffy smiled for real now. "You know Blahnik? This is the happiest moment of my *life*!" She threw her arms into the air in worship of the skies above, making Spike roll his eyes and crave another cigarette. It was almost tortuous that she was being so good hearted about this, thus far. 

Maybe, somewhere, he thought, I want to be punished for what I'm about to do.

Spike's smile faded at that thought, taking Buffy's grin with him. He fiddled in his pocket, fingering the pack of cigarettes and wanting one like he hadn't for years. Damned human bodies with their addictions. "'Fraid it's not quite that simple, Pet."

"I know," she answered, sighing and letting her arms drop back to her lap, her hands clasping in front of her. "So, what was it?"

Spike fidgeted, that familiar feeling of dread creeping into his chest and spreading. "Watcher wanted to try and talk me into something, is all," he finally said quietly.

Again, she sighed. "I have a feeling that there's a little more to it than that," Buffy stated flatly. "Did he win? Because he's really good at it…"

He nodded once, and then trained his eyes to the sky before muttering the next sentence. . "Less you can honestly tell me that you think it's a bad idea for reasons other than... it's a bad idea."

Looking at her was not even part of Spike's equation. The last thing he wanted was to see her face as he told her the plan. And deep down he *wanted* her to think of a reason that this was a bad idea, other than the aforementioned, and give him a way to stay by her side and fight.

"Okay, now you're beginning to talk like me, so I know something's up," Buffy commented, reaching out and taking his fidgeting hand from his pocket, wrapping it with her own. He lowered to a crouch in front of her, trying to stare at a spot on the side of the house instead of looking into those drowning green eyes. "So, are you going to tell me or are you going to force Giles to break his Slayer's heart?"

A pang ripped through Spike. She couldn't know. Could she? Would this break her heart? It wasn't meant to. Nothing romantic about it, or at least that's what he desperately hoped. Wouldn't she do anything to save their littlest? Wouldn't she expect him to? Not at the expense of her heart. Or even at its expense? 

Spike was too torn for words. He closed his eyes. Took a breath. Opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened his eyes. Another breath. Back to being a guppy.

"Uh, sometime soon would be good? Me and junior the third are getting kinda tired," Buffy continued, trying to be light hearted, but feeling the dread begin to knot in the pit of her stomach and spreading rapidly to her every limb, weighing her down with invisible cinder blocks and pulling her heart to somewhere near her knees.

"Right. Best just get to the point," Spike began again, holding onto her hand like a life preserver and trying to at least pretend to be looking at her face. "Rupert's not so sure about the outcome of this meeting tomorrow. Thinks that even if the blokes all sit down and agree someone's likely to welch. Wants to make sure we have the bases covered, so he asked me… "Spike took another breath, searching for the easiest way to say the words. "He wants me to talk to some of Gwydion's former associates."

Buffy thought for a moment, her brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. . "Spike? Why should this be upsetting me? I mean, sounds like a good idea, other than the fact that it probably involves you being away, which wasn't on my top zillion things I want right now, but… it's just away. Right?"

"It does involve that." Spike answered, "Though not far, and hopefully, not long."

The creases in her brow deepened as she struggled to understand why this plan should be carrying the weight of the dread pulling her down, and why Spike was having so much trouble in the telling. Something told her, loud and clear, that she should be angry, or hurt, or both. Maybe it was the look on Spike's face – the combination of fear and anxiety with a little bit of 'I'm sorry', or the covert meeting between her husband and her Watcher – but something indicated severe emotion was in order. Something she couldn't find in what he was saying.

Best to get to the point, eh? "So, what aren't you telling me?" She finally asked.

'Bugger', Spike thought. 'Why do I always get to be the bringer of bad news? Maybe she won't take it wrong.' He hazarded a glance at her face. She'd been through too much not to know something was up, and she'd been hurt too many times before they'd been joined not to have a little of a jealous streak in her. It was in her eyes. She knew it was coming. 

The razor blade in the apple. 

His inner voice corrected his idea that maybe she would take it well, as he read the look on her face that was preemptively shifting from confusion to anger. 'Right. She's Buffy. A pregnant Buffy. Not good when you're 'bout to tell her that you're off to find your ex.'

"Spike?" Now she was annoyed at just the wait.

A long sigh. More of his now patented guppy impersonation. "Right then. One of Gwydion's closest associates in this dimension, while he was parading round in my father's skin, was… It was Dru, okay? And Rupert thinks it best we get as much information as we can on the bastard so we can fight him, and he asked me to talk to Drusilla because he thinks it most likely that I'd be able to get information out of her, and understand it if I did and…"

Buffy's eyes flared. "Drusilla?" An unnaturally long pause. "Like as in your not so stable sire, not to mention, oh, *lover* for a century?"

Again, she fell quiet, waiting for his words before she continued, anger and hurt gnawing at the back of her mind. Not to mention, the stab of jealousy and the grinding fear that maybe, just maybe, he'd fall back in love with her and never come home.

Spike looked at her, reading her thoughts, not through some special connection, but just as one wounded lover to another. "Yes, Love, Dru. Can't deny that she turned me. Can't deny that we… were. But she never owned my heart. Never shared my soul."

Buffy crossed her arms defensively over her chest, her nostrils flaring, looking all the world, to Spike, like Emma about to throw a tantrum. However, this wasn't Emma and not (at least most of the time) so easy to quell. This was his *mate*. Truly, his other half. And hurting her heart, for Spike, was like stabbing himself in the gut.

After a long moment, Buffy spoke, still clutching her arms around herself white knuckled, as if trying to hold herself together. "And Giles thought this up?"

Spike nodded once, almost afraid to speak. But he couldn't let the Watcher take all the blame. Spike had thought, in the end, it was a useful plan, if not a good idea... "But I agreed."

Buffy sat still for what seemed an eternity, her eyes darting between the stars above and the terrified face just below her on the steps. Internally, she was raging, with her rational mind grasping for purchase on the slippery slope of her hormonally aggravated emotions. The little voice of reason inside of her mind *screamed* that Giles would *never* have come up with a plan that would hurt Buffy. Not on purpose. And he'd never actually try to put it into action unless he thought, with all his Watchery mind, that it was worth the upset. Especially, since Giles was extremely protective of her condition, even when it wasn't being threatened by an ancient force of Darkness.

And then there was Spike.

That other voice, the emotional one, tore into her. A century. A frigging hundred *years* they were together. He had to have loved her. Whether or not he loved her more or less was sort of moot. He'd loved her enough to stay with her for a hundred years.

Still, the reasonable voice stated very calmly, a hundred years was how long he had to wait for you.

Buffy looked at Spike again. His face was a cross between terrified and heartbroken. Not gleefully looking forward to a tumble with his ex. On the contrary, she could feel the weight of dread in him, greater than what was weighing her down. And it hadn't gone away when he had told her the plan. It wasn't the dread of the secret, but the dread of the action.

"And do you think you can get information from her? I mean, useful information? Not like… what colour the emperor's clothes are or anything…," Buffy asked tentatively, not yet sure that she wanted to give in to the rational just yet.

A nervous laugh escaped the Vampire's lips. "Honestly, Pet, I don't know. I never presumed to understand her, as she truly is sack of hammers. But Giles knows, I know, that I'm probably the one she's most likely to talk to… and I'm the one who has the best chance of sussing out what she's saying."

The Slayer nodded, her arms tightening around herself. The rational part of her understood what he'd said and why he'd agreed. But still, there was that withering emotional bit screaming as she tried to force it down. That tinge of jealousy at their hundred years together. Buffy shifted nervously on the step, eyes flitting away from Spike. "Do you think you…? Spike... I mean, it's important that we know as much as we can, but do you think… Will you have to… *Would you*…?"

Spike quirked an eyebrow, looking up at her face, utterly confused at her question. She wouldn't return his gaze; only stare out at the sky blankly. She wasn't going to continue, but obviously it was important. "Would I what, Pet?"

Another sigh. She still wouldn't look at him and her knuckles were white where they clutched the backs of her arms in a steely hug. Slowly, her eyes sunk closed and she forced out the words. "Sleep with her, Spike? Have sex. Be inside of her again. Do you think that you'll have to…? I mean… if it was going to save our baby and… I know I need to be telling you to do anything, *anything* to save her, and really, that's what I want. Please know that. But please, Spike, don't make me say it. Know it, but…" 

Spike watched her fight off both tears and anger, trying to do what was best for their child. He hadn't even thought of it. In reality, he was more worried about having to get her fed and talk her down from the clouds. Sex with her hadn't really crossed his mind much, though in a massive leap of wisdom, he sorted that that was why Rupert and he were both so afraid of this conversation. Not because Spike would ever want that again. Didn't want anything to do with Dru in that regard. But because *Buffy* would assume that the temptation would be there. *She* would worry that he'd do it to save their child. Worse yet, she'd almost want Spike to do it if it would help them. And that killed her. That was what the hard part of this equation had always been.

And to think, Spike mused, if anything, all he felt for her now was a distant love, like one has for their first, but not their greatest. 

Like he knew she had somewhere for Angel.

"Buffy," Spike said softly, his thumb tracing circles on the palm of her hand. "I think it's safe to say that I don't think it will come to that." He paused, trying to think of how to continue. "And it's not what I want."

Silvery tears threatened to spill from her eyes, perched in the corners like raindrops from Heaven. "If it does… I mean… if she knows something, Spike, and she can tell us how to save… you should." Buffy's face was set in stone now. Unreadable. Just staring out at the stars, hoping for an answer there. But her eyes gave her away.

"Love, I don't want…"

"Do you still love her?" Buffy asked suddenly, her gaze finally settling on him and gripping him like a steel vise. 

"What?" Spike asked, startled. He shook his head to clear it, wondering if she'd asked him what she'd just asked him.

"Love. Her." Buffy repeated, her fingernails digging half moons into the backs of her arms as she tightened her hold on herself... 

A flash of fury burned in Spike's eyes. "No! How can you ask me that?" 

That much escaped before he forced the anger back; trying to remember the amount of stress they were both under. And that he'd just dropped yet another heap onto the pile. Slowly, he closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. How would he feel if she'd told him she'd have to run off to Angel all alone to get information by any means possible?

Now, there was some perspective. He was currently amazed that he was still breathing. 

His eyes flickered open, softer now. "No," he answered again gently. "Did once. But nothing like… S'nothing like us, Love." Spike shifted, pulling her hands from their vise grip on her arms and taking them in his own. "I love you, Buffy. Only you. Always have, somewhere. Always will." His hand rose to her cheek, wiping away one of the tears that had finally escaped with a soft stroke of his thumb.

A hesitant little smile twitched the corners of her mouth. Her brave face was coming, which broke his heart every time he saw it, and he did quite often with all the times she'd laid down what she wanted in order to make the World a little better. . "Then you do what you have to do to save us, okay?"

Spike nodded softly, caressing her cheek. "I plan on just trying to talk with her, Love. S'what Dru and I did most of the time. She talked. I listened. I talked. She listened. Bit like us, 'cept it made even less sense."

Buffy chuckled, knowing better, but appreciating his effort to ease her mind. As much as the thought of her love even being near Drusilla again pained her, losing his body for a night would be worth saving their child. If it came to that. Which she really hoped it didn't. 

One night.

But she had his heart for eternity.

If it came to it…

"Spike?"

"Yeah, Pet."

"Promise me you love me."

A small smile broke across his tired features. "I promise you, Pet. I love you Always."

"Always?"

"Everyday."

Buffy finally reached out, putting her arms over his shoulders and pulling him in for a soft, chaste, kiss. "I'd really, really like to go to bed."

"In that case," Spike answered, turning sideways and scooping her up from the steps, carrying her back into the house. Back to their somewhat normal lives.

~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~

Spike made his way up the stairs to their bedroom, Buffy still in his arms, their lips now meeting in urgent need, teeth clashing, moans and whimpers escaping in the split seconds left for breath. He was going to prove it, dammit. Prove to her that there was no one else for him *ever*. Not before, not since, not after. Not *ever*.

It was Buffy. Always Buffy.

"Spike," she whimpered between kisses, her one hand playing mercilessly with the zipper of his jeans. Jeans that were suddenly several sizes too small in the area of her hand. Her nails scratched along the back of his neck. She was going to show him where he belonged. Who he belonged to.

"God, Buffy," Spike whispered, his mouth still pressed to hers. "Always yours, Pet. Always."

He nudged open the door of their room open with the toe of his boot and began into the darkness when he stopped dead in his tracks. Buffy, confused that the time in which she was normally tossed onto the mattress and ravaged in an oh-so-pleasant sort of way had not come to pass, stopped her ministrations and looked up at his face. 

Spike's eyes were wide and confused both with desire and with the scene. 

She followed his gaze to their king sized bed and saw both Emma and Will curled in the center, foreheads pressed against each other, sleeping as soundly as kittens in a basket.

Spike tried to reel in his lust- addled mind and force other parts of his anatomy into behaving as well. "Did you bring the tots in, Pet?"

Buffy shook her head, still panting. "No. You?"  


"No," Spike answered, his voice breathy, the little devil perched cartoonishly on his shoulder desperately wanting to recapture her mouth and go back outside. The little angel- his conscience and not the poofter in LA - was telling him that what was in front of them was far more important. 

Buffy chuckled, silently giving up on her last night of wild, Discovery Channel, encounters, and resigning herself to her other great joy. "I think we might have to… put this on hold."

Spike nodded, swallowing hard. "Right. Right. Uh…" He walked to the chair in the corner of the room, setting her down and staring at her sweet, flushed face. "You sure, Pet? You know… You understand that I love you and…"

Buffy leaned forward, pressing her lips to his in a kiss full of sweetness and understanding. "I do, Spike. I trust you to do the right thing." Her eyes flitted back to the bed. "But I think we better find some pajamas and let them know too."

Spike smiled. "Damned PJ's."

"Decency… a hazard of parenting," Buffy chuckled, kissing him softly once again. "I love you, Spike."

"I know. And I…"

"I know."

Spike looked back over his shoulder at the sleeping tots. "Emma have school tomorrow?"

Buffy shook her head. "Holidays."

"Good. Think we could all use a late morning."

Buffy nodded, yawning, her hand over her belly. "This one too."

Spike leaned forward, kissing her hand. "'Specially that one."

"Nap?"

"Nap," Spike repeated, suddenly exhausted himself.

Buffy's eyes shot open as she rose. Spike's heart hammered in his chest, wondering what was wrong. "Spike?"

"What, Pet?"

"About tomorrow?"

"It'll be okay, Pet. Nothing bad'll happen with the Queen and …"

"Do you think we have to make hors d'oeuvres?"

Spike rolled his eyes, pulling her down to her knees in front of him and kissing her relentlessly. "Go. Put on your sodding pajamas and let's get to bed."

She giggled, kissing him back. "Only if you promise to let me show you who you belong to before you leave."

"Already know who I belong to," Spike whispered, capturing her lips. "Tho' doesn't hurt to be reminded."

To be contd.


	25. Evil Crossies

Good evening, all!  
  
Well, here we go. The meeting of the minds between the ultimate evils and the ultimate goods. Fondly enough, it ended up far less angsty than I'd thought it might. And far fuller of snark!  
  
Anyway, the horrors are a-coming, so enjoy the Muse's good humour while you still can!  
  
Let me know what you think. I live for feedback!  
  
Enjoy!  
  
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough  
  
Still we trust  
  
Somehow we'll find it there  
  
With no guarantee  
  
It seems to me  
  
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/  
  
Title: Evil Crossies (Chapter Twenty-five - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Summary: The meeting of the minds, and of the spirits. But will it go as planned?  
  
Evil Crossies  
  
The key fitted into the lock and Willow pushed through the doorway, Tara and Emma behind her. A small frown stretched across her face. Buffy and Spike should be home by now. I mean, the meeting was less than an hour away. Dawn and Brian had taken the younger kids to a Disney movie and then back to their place for some makeshift camping, complete with tents, in their living room. She smiled, remembering all the little blanket tents sticking up from the floor like a miniature Woodstock.  
  
The frown returned, wondering why she was letting herself into Buffy's house with the key, and not being met at the door by the One-dertwins themselves.  
  
This was not of the good.  
  
Willow hazarded a look back at Tara, who shrugged, leading Emma into the hall and taking off her coat. The door clicked shut behind them.  
  
"I wonder...," the redhead had time to begin before she heard a 'bang' from downstairs.  
  
Eyebrows raised, she looked at Tara again. Tara smiled a little, but shrugged, hanging Emma's coat up on the rack near the door.  
  
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang. Slowly. Then an erratic bang-clang-bang-clang- bang. Then back to the steady bang. Bang. Bang.  
  
Slowly, Willow started across the living room to the kitchen, hearing the sound get louder. Louder. She gestured for the two others to stay behind as she proceeded until she found herself at the basement door, her ear pressed against the wood.  
  
Bang-clang-clang-bang-clang-bang 'UUUUNNNHHH!' Willow's eyes shot wide, realizing what she was listening to, and unless Buffy *really* liked fixing an out of balance washing machine, it wasn't something she was supposed to be hearing.  
  
But the meeting was a short time away. And Emma...  
  
Crap.  
  
Willow let her hand fall to the knob, the rhythmic banging starting anew. A subtle turn of the wrist. She'd just call down the steps. Let them know she was here.  
  
Roaring greeted her as the door clicked open. Vampire hearing or not, he seemed a little occupied to notice it.  
  
Spike roars?  
  
Wow.  
  
Bang. Bang. Bang. Bang.  
  
"Uh...uh, Buffy?"  
  
The banging stopped dead.  
  
A pregnant pause and a breathy voice answered her. One trying to be not-so- breathy. "Willow?"  
  
"Uh, yeah..." Willow stopped. This wasn't fair. At least she could bail them out a little. In the background, she heard a knock on the front door. "Um, I know that... well, that pesky washer's been acting up and what with the slaying and all the dirty clothes, but ... well, company."  
  
A deeper shade of blush crossed her face, but she at least felt as though dignity was duly given.  
  
Another voice, still shaky. "R...right, Red. Be right up. Just have to... loosen this bolt, then screw it back in."  
  
The dull thud of a smack from downstairs and Willow had to laugh. "Well, don't want to interrupt that... process. Just thought you should know."  
  
She let the door click shut and turned her back, still smiling. Tara had it coming tonight.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
The rest of the gang was in the living room, sitting in a makeshift circle of furniture and listening to Willow and Wesley explain what would happen when the basement door clicked open. To be fair, it hadn't been very long since Willow's... interruption. Everyone had showed up at once.  
  
Both halves of the One tried to be nonchalant, strolling into the living room one at a time. Buffy first, while Spike hung back in the kitchen a beat or two. Like teenagers who'd just been caught doing something not so spring fresh.  
  
Willow grinned at the flushed faced Slayer, long skirt looking a bit rumpled, but still quite presentable, all things considered. "Washer fixed?" Her friend tried to bail, winking slyly.  
  
Buffy blushed a deeper red. "Yeah. You know. With the spin cycle and the hopping and banging and..."  
  
Spike walked in, hastily buttoned shirt and mussed curls forced into trying to behave and failing. "Bit old, that thing," he muttered, jamming his hands in his jeans pockets.  
  
Tara smiled slyly. "But Willow told me you were just finished screwing the last fixture when ..."  
  
Buffy blushed deeper. Spike smirked, rolling his eyes and reaching for a cookie on the plate next to the kitchen entrance. Everyone else looked confused.  
  
"Your washer's broken?" Xander asked. "I could have fixed it."  
  
"All fixed," Buffy squeaked. "It's the fixediest."  
  
"S'properly oiled and screwed now, whelp," Spike contributed. "No problems."  
  
Xander nodded, oblivious. "Next time just call."  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
They stood in the center of the room, now devoid of furniture as Willow explained the last details, glancing at her watch nervously every few seconds. "It works like this. We had to set a circle up to keep them all in here and it has to stay exactly the way I show you," she began, pushing people into place around the outskirts. "It's set up this way... well... for a lot of reasons, but mostly it's so it's... balancey."  
  
"Why are we playing ring around the rosy?" Xander asked as he was surreptitiously shoved between Giles and Tara.  
  
"It will keep our visitors tethered inside," Wesley answered, taking a place a few steps from Giles and a few steps away from Anya. Alone.  
  
"And so they can't get back in uninvited," Tara added, on the other side of Giles, closing a gap.  
  
"Not sure I understand. Are you saying that if we move, then whoever shows up has an all-access pass to our house?" Buffy snapped as Willow pushed her next to Spike, alone at one arc of the circle.  
  
As Willow answered, she shuffled the people on the right, then placed Cyrus and Emma opposite Spike and Buffy, then placed Takina, Oz and Anya opposite Giles and Xander and set off a bit to the side. "Not if we don't move once we're in order," Willow muttered.  
  
Spike scanned the circle, suddenly understanding the pattern. "Shouldn't I be over there, Love?" Spike asked, pointing at Takina, Oz and Anya.  
  
Willow looked at him, blushing and stopping her shuffling. "No. And I hate that this has to be this way at all... because... well... I mean my kids... and...."  
  
Spike nodded sagely. "No worries, Pet. Understood."  
  
"Not with the understanding," Xander pressed as Willow took her spot.  
  
Wesley sighed. "Balance of force," he said quietly. "To keep the power trapped inside, there has to be a balance of good and evil. Not to say that anyone here is evil..." He hazarded a glance to Anya who was looking at her nails, unaffected. Takina just nodded.  
  
"Still not getting it," Xander asked, looking around the circle.  
  
"What Watcher Junior is trying to say, git, is that the demons are on one side, the humans on the other and the Immortals on either end," Spike interrupted.  
  
Xander glanced around the circle, taking it in. He stood at the edge of a loose arc now, Tara to his right, then Giles, then Willow, then Wesley. A pace or two larger separation, and there was Buffy and Spike, shoulder to shoulder. A few more paces, then Takina and Oz and Anya. A few more and Cyrus and Emma. Then a space and back to Xander.  
  
"It's not even," Xander commented, looking across at his wife. "They don't have enough..."  
  
"It's not going to be a battle, Xander," Wesley commented. "And besides..."  
  
"We have more power," Anya commented, staring at Giles. "The force is even."  
  
Buffy nodded. "It's about power," she muttered. "Which is why...?"  
  
"I have to be here," Emma continued, squeezing Cyrus's hand. "Only we can balance you, and even then, it's uneven," she continued. "But it's strong."  
  
Spike eyed his daughter, desperately wanting her to be somewhere else. Somewhere safe, nowhere NEAR the likes of Gwydion and Luke. But in his head, he suddenly saw a picture. Smelled the sweet smell of vanilla and the soft, almost British lilt of his grown daughter as he'd first heard it – before she was even born. "I saved you from them once, daddy."  
  
Spike nodded and Emma smiled quietly.  
  
Sooner or later he'd have to face that she was older than time, and stronger than existence.  
  
He grabbed Buffy's hand and held tight. ~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
It started fast and without warning. Xander had just finished some tirade on how demons weren't necessarily evil when a little white light had appeared in front of him. They all had stopped talking and watched as the glimmer swirled and grew, then split into two like cells in that human reproduction video they'd all been forced to watch in high school, then spun on its axis and elongated, glowing. Glimmering. Stretching.  
  
Before many of them could wrap their minds around it, the glow took shape, a liquid shape at first, and then became a sparkling solid in front of them.  
  
Cyrus dropped to one knee. Emma followed suit.  
  
Spike and Buffy bowed their heads without even knowing that they were doing it.  
  
The Queen, taller than she'd seemed above, shrugged off a glowing white hood and looked at Emma and Cyrus, a gentle smile on her face. "You do not have to bow before me here," she said sweetly, stretching her hand toward Emma. "This is your world and in it, you are the royalty."  
  
Emma and Cyrus rose, Emma clutching her Queen's hand and the glow extending to the child. Spike made to move towards her – to make sure she didn't need him. But a sense of peace washed over him and he relented.  
  
The Queen and her mate then turned to Buffy and Spike, nodding. They lifted their faces to the Queen and King, nervous but knowing, somewhere, that this was where they got their strength to fight. This was who gave them their gifts.  
  
Their curses came from the others.  
  
As if on cue, a blackness appeared on the floor slightly in front of Anya and Takina. They didn't' move, even when it stretched dangerously close to their feet. Xander lurched forward, but Tara and Giles shot out their arms to keep him in place.  
  
A pair of men rose from the blackness. One in a conservative, proper suit. The other in a red velvet disco-era ensemble, with a red satin shirt underneath, opened to nearly his belly.  
  
Spike couldn't take his eyes from the man in the conservative suit.  
  
Gwydion had chosen to take Spike's father's face again for the visit.  
  
Buffy clung to Spike's hand, squeezing it. Trying to reassure him without words. He closed his eyes and took a breath, remembering that this wasn't his father. This wasn't his future. Not anymore.  
  
The shimmering Queen and her King looked at the pair of men with utter disdain as they became solid. Real, right in front of them.  
  
"It's not quite fair," the Queen began, "to begin these proceedings taking the shape of a loved one." She looked at Spike for a moment. "Torture was not part of the arrangement as I understand it."  
  
Gwydion smiled. "Neither is meeting you in a place with so little in the way of amenities."  
  
"Hey!" Buffy yelped, realizing he'd just insulted her house.  
  
"It is a bit primitive," the King agreed, shrugging at Buffy and smiling kindly.  
  
The Queen nudged him softly. "They do not have the same means that we do to procure such necessities."  
  
"It is a capitalist society," Anya chimed in, gaining an eye roll from Giles.  
  
The King turned to his Queen. "Our girl lives here." Spike growled at the implication. "All it'd take is a wave..."  
  
He waved his glowing hand and the living room was transformed into a palatial hall, decked in gold and built of marble, gleaming and....  
  
"No!" The Queen reprimanded, waving her hand and turning it back. "She must live a human existence and..."  
  
"What's wrong with my house?" Buffy asked, annoyed. Spike chuckled at her defensiveness.  
  
"Not enough red," Luke commented, nodding briskly and causing the entire room to turn into shades of red, with velvet and plush and seventies disco lighting.  
  
Gwydion shook his head once and it was gone. Back to the earth tones and neutral hues Buffy had chosen.  
  
"It's bad enough that I have to see that every day," Gwydion complained.  
  
The Queen smiled. "So, as I thought, you are not there of your own will."  
  
"It is a useful necessity," the Hell god answered.  
  
"But not one of power," the King commented, a slight smile breaking on his face.  
  
"I have Power!" Luke yelped, insulted. "Powerful power. You know, being a god of Hell and all. Comes with a perk or two."  
  
"Yeah, bad decorating skills," Anya commented, looking at her nails again, bored with the proceedings.  
  
"As much as I hate to interrupt this discussion," Wesley said, apparently as the spokesman of the group, "It seems we have business to attend to." He nodded respectfully at the Queen and King. The glowing pair nodded their assent. "What? No respect for the Hell gods?" Luke whined.  
  
"Would you shut up?" Spike snapped, getting annoyed with this gnat in bad haberdashery.  
  
"Oh, you're a big man now that old Luke doesn't have you all tied up against the wall, crying' bout your little knocked up missy and the rug rat to be," the demon in red velvet teased.  
  
Spike began to lurch towards him when Buffy finally intervened, pulling his hand before he could take a step out of the circle. "Not worth it," she whispered. "Just trying to get you to move."  
  
He looked down at his feet and saw a glow of blue light surrounding the inside of the circle of people, like an insane spherical boxing ring. Spike nodded, suddenly wising up.  
  
"Which leads us to why we're here," Wesley began again, hoping that he could proceed with minimal interruption. The idea of standing before four of the most powerful beings in existence was a bit intimidating. Never mind that they were responsible for bringing all of them into this dimension. One wrong move and there could be no existence in the blink of an eye.  
  
"Oh! Right. Slayer's knocked up again," Luke began. "We heard in passing. Not a big shock and all." He turned to Spike, winking. "Way to go, studmuffin."  
  
Spike clenched his jaw. Giles winced. Wesley pressed on.  
  
"As ... crass... as that was, it does bring us to the point at hand. We've discovered the prophesy..."  
  
"You've only now discovered it?" The Queen asked, a frown of disappointment on her face. "I'd assumed that the Watcher's Council would..."  
  
Wesley looked ashamed. Willow frowned, holding onto Tara. "It only...we can be a little slow," the redhead whispered.  
  
The Queen nodded sorrowfully and turned her attention back to the Hell gods. "We cannot let you interrupt this life," she said sternly. "It has been given our blessing and the soul has been chosen. It can only be changed by the decision of the Chosen."  
  
Both Buffy and Spike looked at the Queen. They *knew*. They knew whose soul the child would receive. They'd chosen it. Somewhere, inside the collective thoughts of the One, it seemed somehow wrong that they could just know, just talk about it as if it were an everyday occurrence when it was such a mystery to those who made it *be*.  
  
Made *her* be.  
  
"Oh you have?" Gwydion crooned, wisely. "Do tell."  
  
The King chuckled. "Do you think we just snapped into being in this godforsaken living room?"  
  
Buffy moved to speak but Spike yanked her hand.  
  
"No worries," Gwydion chuckled. "We know."  
  
Spike's turn to want to lurch into the center and beat something to a bloody pulp. Emma stared at her parents, holding them back with her mind, her spirit, alone.  
  
A concerned look crossed the Queen's lovely face, replaced by the serenity it always held. "You are lying."  
  
"'Fraid not," Luke chimed. "But you're not worried. I mean, being all- powerful and all."  
  
The King looked worried. The Queen looked... less confident. "And what is it that you want?"  
  
"We'll take her," Luke sing-songed, pointing at Emma.  
  
"No." It was a collective snap from every mouth but Luke's and Gwydion's.  
  
"All right," Gwydion pressed on. "The second child."  
  
Another collective "No."  
  
The two Hell gods looked at each other. "You know what we can do with the knowledge we have," Gwydion drew out, smiling.  
  
The Queen and King looked at each other. "We do."  
  
"We *don't*," Spike snapped, feeling as though he had a right to be involved with the bartering on the life of his unborn child. Buffy nodded her agreement.  
  
The Queen turned to Buffy and Spike. "If they truly know the identity of the soul, and they've ever touched it before, then they can gain control over the entity once it exits our dominion to exist on the mortal plane."  
  
Giles turned to Buffy. "Control the soul, Buffy. If they know, and they have ever touched the soul, then they can take over the existence of your child."  
  
Buffy's hand splayed over her belly. Didn't it already have a soul? Wasn't the baby inside of her already a person, just waiting to be? When did this happen? Did it come a little at a time? What ...  
  
"Isn't there any way that we can tell if they've interfered with the soul in the past?" Spike asked, looking alternately between Giles and Wesley.  
  
"Not such a big man now, are ya?" Luke chided. Buffy preemptively pulled Spike away.  
  
The Queen shook her head. "No. It's unlikely that the soul herself remembers and there would be no way of telling. If it's not a voluntary sin, if they ever took control against the will of the soul, then it leaves no mark." Another Universal Truth, washed over both Wesley and Giles, sending their minds reeling. If the soul was tarnished unwillingly, then it wasn't marked?  
  
"May... maybe we'd know if it was," Willow said meekly. "Can you..."  
  
The Queen shook her head. "I cannot. Identifying the soul in this realm would disparate the soul from all."  
  
"Speaking its name would make it cease to exist," Wesley muttered, eyes wide with understanding. The Queen nodded her reply.  
  
"So, really," Gwydion interrupted, "We're a bit ahead of the game."  
  
A deep breath from the King. "Well, what do you want, then?"  
  
"We told you," Luke answered.  
  
"And we told *you*," Spike began, his eyes blazing with anger, "you can't have either of him." He looked at Buffy. "Take me instead."  
  
Buffy yelped, threading her fingers through Spike's and holding him in an iron vise. "No."  
  
Gwydion and Luke laughed. "Uh, no," Luke said smugly. "Fat lot of good that does us. Now, were you still William the Bloody, and not Willie the Whipped, it might be fun. But as is, you'd just be a pain in the ass."  
  
"He's still a pain in the ass," Giles muttered, causing Spike to smirk.  
  
"Give us a tick," Luke said to the group before grabbing Gwydion and disappearing through the hole in the floor.  
  
The group began to speak quietly among themselves, thinking that the hell contingent was gone, when they reappeared a split second later.  
  
"Okay, if you won't give us the little Peace girl or the little Seer brother of hers..."  
  
"Seer?" Buffy asked, raising an eyebrow.  
  
"Oops," Luke giggled, slapping a hand over his mouth dramatically. "And you won't let us have our fun with the new baby One, then we want pick of the next genocidal maniac, and NO TELLING to this lot..."  
  
The Queen looked a bit shocked. "We cannot let a soul go to you unbidden."  
  
"No, no," Gwydion corrected. "We won't *take* anyone from you in that manner. It'd throw off the balance and even Hell gods can respect the balance. But when we corrupt his human form, you cannot protect the soul, and you cannot interfere by informing our little Legion of Earthly Fighters of our choice."  
  
The King and Queen looked at each other for a long moment, and then looked back at the Hell gods. "Agreed," the Queen said. "We will not interfere as long as the soul is corrupted on *this* plane alone."  
  
Gwydion smiled. Luke hopped up and down gleefully. Both of them had various fingers and toes crossed, but it seemed to be working all the same. They didn't need the Queen's consent to corrupt earthbound souls.  
  
Sometimes it worked to their advantage that the royalty of the upper realms thought them moronic.  
  
"Are we quite finished?" The King asked, annoyed at both the Hell gods and the décor.  
  
"One other thing," Gwydion added, a devious smile on his face. "If we cannot have the next born of the One, we want her to be a Slayer."  
  
Buffy's eyes shot wide. No. Not that. Anything but... she didn't' want her child to go through that. And didn't want to know that as soon as her daughter was old enough, the clock would start on the end of her life.  
  
"No!" She finally said to the group.  
  
The Queen raised an eyebrow. "Why on Earth would you want another Slayer the likes of this one? She has proven herself time and time again superior to your kind."  
  
"Because," Gwydion said, looking at Spike. "This one only survived because Prophesy demanded it. The next... she'd serve her purpose and be gone, like those that went before. I want them to be there when it happens. When their precious Slayer of a daughter finally loses..."  
  
Spike began to lurch forward and Buffy could not stop him. Suddenly, a wall of white appeared in front of the pair, stopping them dead in their tracks.  
  
"And you'll sacrifice control of this soul in return?" The Queen asked, her hand outstretched, holding the One from entering the circle.  
  
"Please no," Buffy whimpered.  
  
Luke and Gwydion both nodded.  
  
"Then so be it," the Queen said solemnly.  
  
"No!' Buffy screamed, crumpling against the wall.  
  
"Won't let her die like that," Spike whispered, falling down next to Buffy. "We'll protect her, Pet. Teach her."  
  
"No," Buffy whimpered again.  
  
They didn't notice the four in the center disappear.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
"It seems a fair trade, Buffy," Giles said softly, approaching the crumpled pair on the floor. "At least she has a chance now."  
  
Spike looked up at the Watcher, holding Buffy's head against his chest. She shook, unmoved by Giles' words.  
  
"Yeah, Buff," Xander said, encouragingly. "We might be in walkers by then, but we know the game better than anyone."  
  
"And we can teach her magic too. That's one plus you didn't have," Willow contributed brightly.  
  
Buffy looked up, eyes wide and puffy, trying to wrap her mind around it. Her daughter. A Slayer. Maybe it wouldn't be so bad...  
  
"Well, this is all well and good," Anya interjected bluntly, "except that they were lying."  
  
"Lying?" Wesley asked, his gaze fixing on Anya. "How do you know?"  
  
She sighed, patiently. "Well, first of all, they're Hell gods. Notorious for NOT telling the truth. Secondly, they did crossies."  
  
Oz nodded sagely. "I saw that. Not that I could believe it, but..."  
  
"They did crossies?" Willow yelped indignantly.  
  
Anya nodded. "Works every time."  
  
"Crossies?" Giles asked, staring at his better half. "Anya, what on earth are you talking about?"  
  
"They crossed their fingers behind their backs and lied, Rupie," Anya said slowly, as if she were trying to explain quantum physics to her son. "They did crossies."  
  
"You've got to be kidding?" Buffy interjected, shaking her head. "Please tell me you're kidding."  
  
Oz shook his head. "I saw them do it too. I just didn't believe..."  
  
"Not just a kid thing," Anya interrupted. "Based on ancient demon law, in actuality."  
  
Buffy looked at Spike. He shook his head. "Thought it was just a schoolyard thing, Pet."  
  
"They did crossies?" Willow asked again.  
  
"Evil crossies," Xander muttered.  
  
"And off we go to plan B," Giles muttered under his breath. "Unbelievable."  
  
To be contd. 


	26. New Kid in Town

Shock and Awe, my friends!  
  
I managed to get two chapters in a row of the same story out in consecutive weeks. My Muse deserves a cookie. Or an hour with the Spike!Bot. Or something.  
  
Anyway, let the games begin. Not angsty yet, but definitely not of the happy. The next couple of chapters are killers, so enjoy the action while you can. And REMEMBER, always a happy ending.  
  
Enjoy and please let me know what you think!  
  
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough  
  
Still we trust  
  
Somehow we'll find it there  
  
With no guarantee  
  
It seems to me  
  
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/  
  
Title: New Kid in Town (Chapter Twenty-six - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Summary: The meeting of the most powerful forces of good and evil has concluded in the Windsor living room, but the problem still exists. Empty promises made and sure to be broken, and the crew have to find another way. Plan B goes into action. But will the product be worth the cost to them all?  
  
New Kid in Town  
  
It had been three days since the meeting had come unhinged by the cross of demonic fingers. They hadn't done much at all other than meet and plan and sleep and patrol. Lots of patrol, Spike thought as he walked next to Buffy through their fourth cemetery of the night.  
  
Four cemeteries. Lots of dead in Sunnydale.  
  
Lot less now than there were before the little blonde thing stalking in front of him. He smiled at that. Really, he was turning into such a sap.  
  
Who was he kidding? He was always a sap.  
  
A rustle of leaves and Buffy pounced; finding a small group of younger Vampires huddled around a trash can fire in the west corner, hidden only by ill tended shrubbery. Spike hung back for a moment as she launched off the stone wall behind the hedge, flipping flawlessly into the middle of the group and smiling triumphantly as little, newly dead minds figured out who she was.  
  
A flick of the wrist and one of five was dust before the rest had even processed the information.  
  
The dance began anew. Roundhouse kick. Parry. Duck. Left hook. What seemed so predictable to Spike was a complete shock to them as they hopelessly fought the lioness of all Slayers. The Queen. His Queen.  
  
But she didn't see what he could feel coming, with the power and might of the ages.  
  
As Buffy fought, a presence came from behind the shrubs, pausing for only a moment to watch Buffy massacre what Spike guesed was this one's newest recruits. A master vampire. Old. Powerful.  
  
And in Spike's town.  
  
He was the only Master here, even if his family wasn't of the Vampire variety anymore.  
  
With a flourish, Spike turned from Buffy, his back to her, calling a warning over his shoulder as he began to stalk forward toward the shadowed figure. Buffy paused long enough to get caught by a mean, yet harmless right cross to the chin, hollered her acknowledgement and went back to the remaining fledglings.  
  
The figure came forward, robed and hooded, face obscured by the darkness. It stopped short of the blond Vampire and took a deep, unneeded breath.  
  
"Got the wrong town," Spike hissed, his legs spread and anchored, his body tensed to pounce. "No Master's welcome here. Should know that."  
  
The figure scoffed. "This is the Hellmouth. There should be a Master in residence, since the last one went soft."  
  
A bristle of electricity crept up Spike's spine. "Have to ask the Slayer' bout that."  
  
"Formidable, I've been told," the Vampire said coolly. "And stronger for your mating. But I've not come here to mate."  
  
That did it. Even the *thought* of another Vampire mentioning Buffy in that manner was intolerable. It was time to prove that he wasn't the oldest surviving Vampire in Sunnydale, albeit with... modifications... for nothing.  
  
Spike sprang forward, fist raised and arcing towards the head of the creature. He had no weapons other than a stake, as the town had been quiet for months now. They were really just patrolling to keep the fledgling population down and give them something to do to take out their frustrations.  
  
As the hooded figure slid gracefully out of the way, Spike thought that complacency might *not* have been the best of all ideas.  
  
He landed on the ground with a thud, somersaulting to his feet and lunging at the figure. This time, it took the bait and swung at Spike, starting a dance step he hadn't performed in years.  
  
The two Masters tangled together, fists flying, claws and fangs bared as they fought. Spike could hear Buffy in the background, polishing off what seemed to be a continuous supply of fledgling minions. A trap. Occupy the Slayer with a horde of baby Vamps, then take out her mate, the competing Master, in a proper match. One on one.  
  
Can't have that, can we? Spike thought.  
  
His hand caught the back of the other creature's hood and ripped it down, exposing a young looking man with longer, dark, hair. Power crackled around him and as he swung, catching Spike in the side of his head and knocking him clear, the blond judged that this one was old. Older than him and probably than Angelus.  
  
And he was strong.  
  
How the *hell* had they missed this?  
  
Spike shook his head to clear it, pulling the stake out from inside of his duster, and ran at the dark haired Vampire full tilt. The other master braced himself, pushing Spike back, but missing the right hand the blond swung from an awkward angle, smashing into the darker master's face. Stunned for a moment, both by the shock and the weight of the blow, Spike took his chances and brought his left hand in for the kill.  
  
The cloaked figure caught the hand and began to fight anew, twisting Spike's arm behind him and spinning him into a chokehold. Spike kicked back with a satisfying crack of the other Vampire's knee and spun back to face him, setting loose a flurry of jabs that knocked the older Vampire back.  
  
A scream from his lover took Spike's attention as he jumped back, spinning towards Buffy. She was doubled over, down on her knees, blood running from the corner of her mouth.  
  
"Buffy!" Spike screamed as his feet moved at a frenzied pace toward her. Before he could reach her, the dark master grabbed the collar of his duster and yanked him back. Buffy's eyes met Spike and he saw her nod quickly, a signal that he knew meant she was okay... or at least okay enough... before he was hauled back into battle with the older creature.  
  
A moment or two later, a howl of victory came from behind Spike and he could feel Buffy's adrenaline course through his system. A new surge of energy propelled him, game face on, at the older Master. As Spike attacked, the dark hair stranger's eyes grew wide and he dodged out of the way of Spike's raised stake, taking off into the bushes.  
  
Spike fell forward on his own momentum, landing on his knees where the dark master had been standing. A moment of confusion at his enemy's hasty departure clouded Spike's mind until he felt her drop down beside him, bloodied and bruised and panting, but seemingly all right.  
  
"Guess he was too chicken to try against us both," Buffy panted, a smirk on her face.  
  
Spike chuckled, tumbling back onto his backside in the grass. "No one's that stupid, Pet." He paused, catching his own breath, and looked at her. "You all right?"  
  
She nodded, but he saw pain in her eyes and she was guarding her arm against her belly. He tensed, fearing the worst.  
  
For a moment, he'd forgotten that she was carrying their child.  
  
"Buffy?" Spike asked, hopping back up to his knees in front of her. "What aren't you telling me?"  
  
She sighed, wincing. "There were a lot of them, Spike. And... they kept coming. I need to train more... and..."  
  
"Love?" Spike almost growled. "You killed the lot of them. Not doubting your strength. But there are more important things to think of... what.is.wrong?"  
  
She clutched her arm against her belly tighter and closed her eyes, grimacing. Spike could smell the pain flowing off of her in waves and his heart began thudding wildly in his chest. "Buffy, please..."  
  
Her eyes slid open and she nodded down at her midsection. That arm clutched over the barely swollen belly. "Think I'm hurt."  
  
Spike's heart began breaking before her words even came out of his mouth. He moved towards her on his knees, visually surveying her every inch and coming back again and again to that arm clutched tight over their child.  
  
Buffy saw it in his eyes – the terror that comes from losing it all, not the frustration of letting someone you love suffer a physical injury. Oh God.  
  
"Spike?" She whispered, raising her right hand up to cup his cheek. "I'm okay. Really. I think I broke my arm."  
  
His gaze shot up to meet hers and she could feel the relief slip from him in a deep sigh. "Your arm?"  
  
She nodded, dropping her good hand to the sleeve of the one held against her torso, and pulled it back, exposing a nasty gash and a flash of bone about half way up her forearm.  
  
"Hell, love. S'bad. Need to get you to the hospital. Want you checked out."  
  
"Just a break, Spike."  
  
"Not just a break," he grunted, standing and leaning down to pick her up carefully. "Cell phone's in my pocket. Call Takina and tell her to meet us there."  
  
"Spike. Slayer. I heal," Buffy whined as he loosed his grip long enough to let her worm her good hand into the pocket of his duster and pull out the cell phone as he picked up a fast walk in the direction of the hospital.  
  
"Damn trap, that was," Spike grunted. "Divide and conquer. Getting soft, I am. Let my guard down. Could have hurt you. Could have hurt the baby. Could have..."  
  
Buffy leaned up, kissing his chin. "Broke my arm," she whispered quietly. "Ouchy, but not life threatening. Baby is *fine*. But you'd know that if you stopped long enough to..."  
  
"Doesn't change that the tot has enough against her without me letting his mum get pummeled by a horde of Vampires," Spike growled, annoyed.  
  
Buffy sighed, flipping open the phone and wincing. "I'm the Slayer, Spike. My *job* to pummel and be pummeled."  
  
"Just call her, all right? Let me brood," Spike snapped, breaking into a jog.  
  
Buffy chuckled, wincing as her arm was jarred by the giggle. "Don't tell me you're turning into your grandpa."  
  
Spike growled and jogged on.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~  
  
"She's fine," Takina said, coming out of the examining room in the ER with a slight smile on her face. Spike was pacing back and forth and Xander was looking nervous, River squirming in his arms.  
  
Spike stopped and looked at her. "Little one?"  
  
"Fine," Takina answered, moving to take River into her arms. "Nasty break, but judging from how the two of you heal, especially since the joining, I didn't even cast it. Just put a splint on it, cleaned and stitched the wound, and told her to keep the sling on. She can't be picking anything heavy up or moving it much for a couple of weeks after the wound heals..."  
  
"Won't have to. She's not moving from the bed. Or the couch. Or wherever. Sod it, not letting her out of my sight again," Spike grumbled, still internally beating himself over the head for her injury.  
  
"Not thinking that's gonna happen," Xander muttered, under his breath.  
  
Spike turned, snarling, when the door to the waiting room swung open and Giles bustled in. "How is she?"  
  
"Other than a nasty broken arm, she's fine," Takina answered for the umpteenth time. "The nurse is just getting her a new shirt since hers is a little worse for wear, and then she can go."  
  
"The baby?" Giles asked, tensing once again.  
  
"Fine," Takina reassured, switching her own from one hip to the other. "Coming along nicely from the looks of the ultrasound."  
  
Spike and Giles both looked at her like dopey expecting fathers. "You saw her?" Spike asked.  
  
Takina nodded. "Yep. Starting to look more baby-like now. "  
  
"And you're sure..." Giles began.  
  
"Fine," Takina sighed.  
  
Giles nodded and looked at Spike. "Well, I would love to say that I came here just to check on her, but I'm afraid that there's more to it."  
  
Spike turned his attention to the Watcher, a growl beginning in the back of his throat. "Not a good time, Rupert."  
  
Giles sighed, taking off his glasses and swiping them aimlessly. "I know, Spike. But I'm afraid we don't have much... time, that is. Angel called."  
  
The growl grew to full-fledged and Spike's eyes lit with fury. "Don't care much about what Peaches has to say at this instant."  
  
"Right. Well, then I guess you don't think that a chance of saving your child is particularly important then," Giles snapped, uncharacteristically.  
  
Takina excused herself back to the examining room, tugging a slack-jawed Xander along behind.  
  
Spike bristled, moving to within centimeters of the taller man. "I'm going to pretend you didn't say that."  
  
"I'm afraid that's how you're acting," the Watcher answered, standing his ground. Looking at Spike's frightened eyes, he softened. "Look, I know what it's like to have a close call with that particular Slayer, but we all know by now that she's fallible. That she gets hurt and she gets bloodied and all we can do is watch and try to help. I trust Takina to be telling us the truth that she is fine. And she and I will talk about what happened and why, so that it doesn't happen again. But, in the meantime, we are running very short on time in regard to our plan."  
  
Spike clenched his jaw and relaxed it, relieving some of the tension. He hated when the Watcher was rational about Buffy, even though he knew that Giles was probably almost as upset as he was under the surface. "Can't leave now, Mate. She's hurt and there's another master in Sunnydale."  
  
The Watcher's eyes opened wide and he took a step back. "What?"  
  
"'S how she got hurt," Spike continued, his shoulders slumping. "We stumbled 'cross this group of fledglings in the cemetery and she plowed in. 'Cept it was a trap. More of them were waiting in the wings."  
  
"And a master was waiting for you," Giles surmised.  
  
Spike nodded his agreement. "An old one, Watcher. Older than me. Maybe even Angelus. Powerful. And he's right under our sodding noses. Can't leave Buffy to..."  
  
"Go and find out information that might help our baby?" Buffy asked, pushing through the doors into the waiting room. "Uh... let me think... yes. Yes you can."  
  
"Buffy, Spike tells me that there's another master Vampire in Sunnydale?" Giles asked, still trying to wrap his mind around the idea. He turned back to Spike. "I was under the impression that once one Master had taken residence that..."  
  
Spike's eyes dropped. "Forfeited my status, least as far as the Vampire community is concerned, when I took a human as my mate. Oh, and the bit with the beating heart and soul built for two didn't help my case much..."  
  
"Then why wouldn't another master have made a move before now?" Buffy asked, her arm in a sling hanging down against a pale pink hospital scrub shirt.  
  
Spike shot her a look. "Would you want to be the first to go against us, Pet?"  
  
"Oh," Buffy whispered, her head still muddied by the throbbing pain in her arm. They couldn't give her much pain relief because of the baby. "Guess not."  
  
"Right," Giles said quietly. "Well, this does change things."  
  
"How?" Buffy asked. "You're the one who said that Drusilla was the one that may know the most about Gwydion and what he'd be planning..."  
  
"Can't leave you alone and unprotected with a broken wing and a master Vampire in town, Pet," Spike snapped back. "Not going to."  
  
"Yes you will," Buffy responded, pulling him to face her. "This moron is going to plot and scheme and take his time thinking up a way to get to us. That gives you time, and we need this information. All of us. Besides, I've got the rest of the crew here to keep an eye on me."  
  
Giles nodded. "That much is true, Spike. We'll all be here, save for Anya, who's with Willow and Dawn as we speak, preparing to go back to..."  
  
A bolt of guilt shot through Spike. He'd just torn the Watcher apart in his hurt and anger over Buffy's injury, but he failed to remember if he was about to embark on the second part of the plan, so was Giles' beloved. "She all right then, Rupert?"  
  
Giles chuckled. "I wouldn't want to be on her bad side," he answered softly. "I trust her judgment and if this is what she wants to do, then I'll do what I can to help her do it safely."  
  
"You'd better get to her, Giles. See her off," Buffy said quietly.  
  
Her Watcher nodded. "Spike, when I spoke with Angel, he told me that there isn't much time. He wouldn't- or couldn't- explain further, but I suppose that Drusilla is about to move again. It may not be so easy to find her a second time..."  
  
Spike nodded. "I'll stay with Buffy until you and the Witch come back, all right?"  
  
Giles nodded his consent. "We won't leave her until you've returned. And she won't leave the house. She's safe there with the wards around the property."  
  
Buffy shot a cold look at the Watcher. "But there's another master that needs to be..."  
  
"Dealt with when Spike comes back and you're healed. Right now, you need to worry more about you and your child," Giles interrupted. "And I will make sure of it, Spike."  
  
Spike nodded, looking forlorn, but accepting the situation. "Go see your bird off," he said softly. "And tell her thanks from us."  
  
Giles nodded. "Do you have a way home?"  
  
"Xander and Takina can take us," Buffy answered nodding.  
  
The Watcher turned to Spike. "Be safe. We'll take care of her." With that, he turned and quietly left the room.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
He had tucked them all into bed. Will first, as he'd awoken when they'd come home. Then Emma, who was frightened over her mother's injury, but exhausted from all that was going on. He kissed them both and settled them in before heading back to his and Buffy's bedroom to wait.  
  
She was lying on top of the covers in flannel pajama bottoms and a tank top he'd helped her into when they first got home. She looked so small and so young, all freshly scrubbed and overwhelmed by an enormous splint and equally ungainly sling.  
  
Spike leaned down and kissed the healing wound on her arm. "Sorry I didn't get to you in time, Love," he whispered for the fiftieth time that night.  
  
Buffy bopped him playfully on the back of the head. "Would you stop? Hazard of slaying. Besides, you were getting your ass kicked too at the time."  
  
"Was not," Spike grumbled defensively.  
  
She chuckled, pushing herself up on the pillows. "Okay then. You were being unsuccessful at kicking someone else's ass?"  
  
"Not bloody likely," he groused. "Just moved so fast. Haven't fought like that in..."  
  
"We should train more," Buffy said quietly as Spike laid his head just below her wounded arm so that his ear was pressed to her abdomen.  
  
He nodded, his hair tickling her through the cotton of the tank top. "True. Thought that three times a week was enough,' specially now...."  
  
"But now," she continued softly, "is when I need to be able to protect myself, and the rest of us, most."  
  
Spike nodded, suddenly hearing something and freezing.  
  
"What is it?" Buffy asked, her body tensing. That other Vampire couldn't get into the house, could he?  
  
Before she could launch herself into full throttle panic, Spike put his hand on her good arm and began to tap out a quick, staccato beat against her skin. Buffy smiled, letting her eyes slide closed and feeling his cheek against her belly, his fingers tapping out the rhythm of their baby's heart.  
  
""S gonna be all right, Pet," Spike whispered, turning his head up so his gaze met hers. "Promise you, I'll protect us."  
  
"*We'll* protect each other," Buffy corrected, letting her hand slide through his silky hair.  
  
"That we will," Spike confirmed.  
  
The door downstairs creaked open and they could hear Willow's voice call up the stairs. "You decent?"  
  
"Not likely," Spike called back, getting a smack from Buffy.  
  
"Be down in a second, Will," Buffy called back. "Guess this is it," she whispered so that only Spike could hear her again.  
  
Spike pushed himself up on his elbows, studying her face. "Guess so, Pet. If you tell me to stay..."  
  
She shook her head slowly. "As much as I don't want you near her, I know... well, if it will help..."  
  
He leaned down and pressed his lips softly to hers. "Buffy, I will *never* love anyone again but you. Not the same. You're my world."  
  
Buffy smiled sadly and leaned forward to kiss him once again. "I love you, Spike."  
  
"I love you too, baby."  
  
"Be careful and come back to me, okay?" The tears were welling up in her eyes as she said it. She knew, rationally, he'd never leave her side if given that luxury. But her heart was nowhere near as secure.  
  
"I'll always come home," Spike whispered, kissing her once again. "Now be a good duck and mind your daddy."  
  
Buffy nodded, tears slipping down her face. "Don't mind your mom."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Deal."  
  
He stood, kissing her once again, and then leaned down to pick up a light duffle bag. "Promise me you won't move against the bloody master without me?"  
  
Buffy's turn to giggle. "Promise. And don't kill Angel while you're down there."  
  
"No promises," Spike joked, kissing her cheek. "Better go, love." Against his will, he began to back towards the bedroom door. "I love you always, Pet."  
  
"I love you everyday, Spike."  
  
He smiled softly, and then turned to leave.  
  
To be continued. 


	27. Orion Sings

Hello, all.  
  
Three weeks in a row, although I'm not quite sure you will be that happy for it once you've read this.  
  
Let me preface the chapter with my choices being organic. I didn't necessarily want it to be this way, but I felt it *had* to go down this road. There needs to be an answer.  
  
You'll understand when you read.  
  
On that note, this chapter kicks off the angsty bits. All I can do is tell you to please hang on and trust that I will end this well.  
  
I would love your feedback....  
  
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough  
  
Still we trust  
  
Somehow we'll find it there  
  
With no guarantee  
  
It seems to me  
  
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ Always_Everyday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Orion Sings (Chapter Twenty-seven - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike goes on his reconnaissance mission to find out what Drusilla knows. What he finds out, however, is nearly enough to kill him.  
  
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.  
  
Orion Sings  
  
The gravel in front of the mission crunched under the tires of the motorcycle. Spike wasn't exactly sure where he was, but it was a couple of hours south of Sunnydale and not quite in Mexico.  
  
The mission itself was a ruin. Not one of those restored-for-historical- value places, with clean, white-washed exteriors and flowers planted in front of the old stone and stucco. Rather an old, dilapidated monstrosity darkly set against the even darker sky.  
  
A spray of rock and road detritus flew from behind the rear tire as he skidded his bike to a halt by the side of the building. A thought of hiding it crossed his mind, but, by the looks of things, no one was here anyway. And no one ever came.  
  
Thousands of things ran through his head as he parked, grabbing his duffle and swinging his leg over the bike to start into the building. Pictures of Buffy lying in their bed, so small and injured and actually needing his help. Watching her fall to the ground in the fight. Other things too: she and Emma in the backyard, holding Will as she barked out commands on a school morning, undulating beneath him with her coral lips parted as they made love.  
  
As he walked closer to the mission, he could see other things too. Pictures he wasn't sure he wanted to see anymore, but that were as much a part of his memory as those of his family. Pictures of Dru, blood on her mouth, giggling after a hunt. Dru dancing under the stars, reveling in the base instincts she'd been left with after her torture had broken her. Hanging onto that stupid sodding doll and laughing at the moon.  
  
A quirky smile broke on the edge of his lips. He loved it when she laughed.  
  
Drusilla had been his princess then, and was his sire. There was a bond there that could never be broken. Somewhere, he thought, Buffy understood that. That there would always be a bond between them both like mother and child, and like first loves. That thought made him shudder. But it was true, all the same.  
  
She was a part of him, Dru. Always had been. Always would be.  
  
But a different part now.  
  
Stomping out the cigarette he'd forgotten he'd lit, Spike stood in front of the mission. Something felt ... wrong... here. Not in the 'I'm about to be ambushed' sense. His radar for humans was showing clear. The funny thing was, so was his radar for Vampires. He felt nothing in the place. Nothing at all. Except sadness.  
  
With a deep breath, he gathered his courage and walked through the stone arch and into the mission.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
"Buffy," Giles said, exasperated, tired and a bit nerve-wracked, knowing his beloved was currently in Hell. "Do you remember anything about what the Master looked like?"  
  
"I didn't really see him," she answered sullenly, curling up on her good side and drawing her broken arm over her middle. Giles sat on the edge of the bed, a dusty tome in his lap. He'd put Randy to bed in Will's room and had decided to stay with Buffy on the first shift. She wasn't going to be left alone while Spike was gone. Both by Spike's wishes and his own.  
  
"Nothing at all?" Giles asked, knowing that Buffy's mind was elsewhere.  
  
She shook her head. "I was a little busy getting my arm broken. Sorry." Her voice was dripping with sarcasm, but Giles knew that it was just to cover the worry and sadness of what was happening with Spike.  
  
With a dusty clap, Giles shut the book, like a father finishing telling a bedtime story. "Well, I'll have to ask Spike when he comes back. I suppose that he got a look at the Master." He paused, waiting for Buffy to react, but she just drew herself into a tighter ball. "If you'd like, I'll give you a free berating session for coming up with this plan to begin with."  
  
Buffy turned on her back and stared at the ceiling. "I'd really like that."  
  
Giles chuckled, turning to face her. "Buffy," he began, taking a deep breath, "You know that I wouldn't... I couldn't... after all these years...I would never..."  
  
"Do something you didn't think was absolutely necessary?" She asked, scooting herself up so she was propped on the pillows and wincing from the sudden surge of pain in her arm.  
  
Giles's face went white. "Your arm? Shall I get you something for...?"  
  
"Can't," she hissed. "Baby."  
  
"Right," Giles nodded helplessly. "Maybe we should have this conversation when you're feeling a bit..."  
  
Buffy closed her eyes and swallowed down the nauseating surge of pain, then refocused. "Fine now."  
  
Another, this time humourless, chuckle from her Watcher. "That I very much doubt."  
  
A smirk from the Slayer and things were back on track. "Listen, Giles, I know that you wouldn't have asked Spike to do this if you didn't think it was important. If you didn't honestly think she might be able to help. But it doesn't change..."  
  
"I know," Giles interrupted. "I know that Buffy. I wouldn't have let Anya go back to La Maison Rouge unless I thought it was vital to the... situation..."  
  
"But it doesn't change how much I hate it," Buffy concluded.  
  
"No," Giles agreed, nodding. "It doesn't."  
  
Buffy thought for a moment. "Angel knows?"  
  
A perplexed look crossed the Watcher's face. "Knows what, Buffy?"  
  
"That Spike is going there, or is there, or whatever?" Buffy asked. "I mean, I know that they don't always see eye to eye, but I also know that Drusilla... well, she's something to both of them."  
  
Giles nodded. "We can't ever understand that, Buffy. We're not... as close as we are, in differing ways, to the varying demon populations, we cannot understand their emotional ties. I can't assume that this is particularly easy on Spike either."  
  
Buffy shook her head and then smiled. "Hey, were you just thinking of my Vampire husband's welfare?" She joked.  
  
A blush spread on the Watcher's cheeks. "Yes, well, he has been at least moderately helpful and not annoyed me to the point of my brain dribbling from my ears for quite some time."  
  
Finally, laughter filled the room. Buffy exploded into giggles, ignoring the pain in her arm and her heart and her spirit and laughed, remembering a time when no one believed in Spike but her. And even the time when she didn't, although that seemed so long ago. And she was really stupid then.  
  
"But," Giles finally continued, laughter in his own voice, "I did tell Angel that Spike had left and also to stay clear until Spike had talked to Drusilla, as I don't think that she'll talk as freely to Angel as she will to Spike."  
  
Buffy nodded, regaining her composure. "I wouldn't."  
  
"There was a time when you did," Giles reminded her.  
  
"No, there was a time where I had a wicked crush on a handsome Vampire and fell in love with what I couldn't have. But there was never a time where I felt safer with him than I do with Spike," Buffy corrected, trying to remember it all. Everything seemed so long ago. Like another lifetime altogether. Then again, it was another lifetime altogether, in a way.  
  
Giles nodded at her, so glad for the comfort between them. She was his daughter. Through thick and thin, that was the one thing that hadn't changed. Them. And that made Giles happier than she'd ever know.  
  
Somewhere, he hoped Joyce would be pleased at how her daughter had turned out, and that she thought he'd done an all right job seeing her there.  
  
"You should get some rest, Buffy," Giles said softly. "I'm going to go downstairs and do a bit of researcht."  
  
She nodded, smiling as he pulled the comforter up to her chin and filled the glass of water on her nightstand. "Thanks for staying with me," she whispered, looking up at him with large, innocent eyes, reminiscent of those eyes that had looked at him the day they first met.  
  
He nodded once, grabbing the tome. "I wouldn't have it any other way. Now get some rest," he answered, flipping off the light.  
  
"Nite Giles," she sang sleepily.  
  
"Goodnight, Buffy."  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
As Spike walked down the hallway of the mission, a surge of white hot pain spread through his body and he stopped, leaning against a wall for support. When he could see again, he shook his head and looked down at himself, trying to survey the damage, his eyes flittering around in the darkness to see where it came from.  
  
He sensed nothing in the room. No one else. His body seemed whole. Intact. But his arm burned as if someone had spilled holy water on it. Halfway up his forearm, sparks of white fire still exploded like New Years fireworks.  
  
A thought occurred to him.  
  
Buffy.  
  
Images swam in his head of her helpless, clutching her arm, screaming in pain, doubled over and crying, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do to stop it. His heart beat double time in his chest and he searched the pockets of his duster for his cell phone, finding that he must have left it in his bag.  
  
Buffy.  
  
But as quickly as the pain came upon him, it began to subside, and a sort of peaceful quiet settled over him. Comfort, despite pain.  
  
Spike took a deep breath and decided to get this over with. He needed, he *ached* to be with Buffy. But he knew he had to do this first.  
  
The sound of his boot heels thudding against the cement corridor was deafening in the silence. He came to the end of the hall and found a T- junction. Left or right. Left or right.  
  
A funny thought occurred to him. Were it Buffy he'd been looking for, he'd have headed right. With Dru, the left hand path was always a safe bet.  
  
A pivot and he was on his way down a dark corridor, riddled with exits into various chambers. Spike switched into game face in order to see better, and began to search, still not feeling anything but the inky black emptiness all around him.  
  
At the end of the hall, there was a large stone archway, leading into a small courtyard. From that direction, he sensed something faint. Nothing he'd consider a threat. Actually, it was more like what the life-force of a wet, bedraggled kitten would feel like. Just a blip. But he followed it nonetheless.  
  
There was a dead fountain in the courtyard, surrounded by an overgrown garden. Stone benches sat in a circle around the fountain, lit by the soft light of the crescent moon. Darkness surrounded the area past the benches. Stone eaves and overhangs creating corners darker than the pits of Hell. It made Spike shudder.  
  
Straightening his back, reminding himself that he was half of the single most powerful force on this plane, he pushed back his fear and strode toward the fountain in the pale moonlight.  
  
"I wish to think the brave knight came to save his princess, but the knight is white and his princess is black and night," a weak voice sing-songed from the darkness.  
  
Spike spun towards the sound, focusing with his enhanced vision on the corner of the courtyard, not far from where he stood.  
  
The voice breathed a heavy sigh. "The night does not bring pleasure to me anymore," she said quietly. "But the flowers are so pretty."  
  
Dead roses climbed up a trellis to his left, but bright wildflowers grew at the base. He wasn't sure which she was talking about.  
  
"You came to ask your mommy for help," she whispered, the sound cracked and arid. "You came to ask your mommy about the baby."  
  
Spike walked hesitantly towards the sound, his boot heels now explosively loud, only competing against the pounding of his heart. "That I did, Dru."  
  
He could almost hear her smile. "I always loved you best, my Spike," she cooed from the shadows. "Come and say goodbye."  
  
Spike quirked an eyebrow, not at all certain of what the dark princess had in store, but stepped towards the darkness all the same.  
  
At the edge of the ring of light created by the moon, he began to see her. She was dressed in a white dress like one of her dolls, sitting on the cold concrete, her legs spread in front of her like a child, her body held up only by the wall behind her.  
  
She was skeletal, her face nearly as white as her dress, black hair shocking against her pale, smooth skin. Something in Spike cracked at the sight. She'd always been frail, but strong. Vibrant.  
  
Now she was dead.  
  
With another sharp inhale of courage, he pushed himself towards her and into the darkness, standing at her feet. "Drusilla," his hushed voice gasped. He couldn't fathom what was in front of him. The stick figure with skin hanging from bone, lost and alone with eyes as hollowed and dead as the deepest recesses of Hell.  
  
She smiled a mirthless grin, but her eyes still twinkled with the last vestiges of her spirit. "My Spike. Come and sit with me, will you?"  
  
Spike swallowed, dropping to his knees in front of his creator. What he told Buffy had been truth. He wasn't in love with her... not in the way that Buffy feared... but there would always be something between them. She would always be his sire, his teacher. He would always know what made her smile and what made her heart sing.  
  
A bony hand reached out and took his. It was ice against his warmed skin. "Your humanity suits you, even if I hate it," she whispered. "It is nice to be warm."  
  
Spike scooted closer, pulling her against him so that her head lolled into the crook of his shoulder. She was too weak to fight it, and too weak to find her way in closer. "S'nice sometimes, Pet."  
  
"To share your bed?" Dru asked quietly, her eyes shifting up towards his.  
  
Spike nodded. "That too." He could feel tears forming as she nodded her reply.  
  
"You were meant to be there, you know. Orion told me so." She shifted her gaze to the stars and pointed weakly. "He sings me to sleep some nights. Like you used to do. And he told me you were happy with the little Slayer. I don't like her."  
  
Spike had to chuckle at that. "I know you don't, princess."  
  
Drusilla went quiet a moment and Spike wondered if she was gone. Disappearing out from under his arm. "She is your princess now," Dru whispered sadly.  
  
"She is," Spike answered honestly. "Doesn't change you, though. Doesn't make what happened any less."  
  
A small hitch and Spike felt a tear against his shirt. "Alone now. Alone with the stars. Don't want to drink the red red wine. Don't want to play in the flowers. I never wanted this at all. But I did miss you."  
  
Spike could feel his own tears welling. "What didn't you want, Pet?"  
  
"I wanted to be good. I remember that now. Wanted to be a good girl. Went to a place like this. Holy men were here, Spike. They sang too, until we killed them. Our kind."  
  
He looked around the stone structure, feeling the faint vibration of torture and death in the walls. It wouldn't have surprised him much to hear that Vampires killed the men that lived here. Like Angel had done to Drusilla's convent. It was a favourite pastime of the darker breeds.  
  
"Hurts to remember," Spike whispered, absently stroking her hair. "What it felt like before..."  
  
"Sad," she whispered quietly. "And now Daddy's got his soul and you've got your stars and I'm left alone. Can't be good. Can't be bad anymore because I remember."  
  
The words tore at Spike's own heart. 'Not a monster. Not a man.'  
  
"I know, Love. But we can help you. Angel and me. If you want," Spike said quietly, feeling her fingers threaded in his.  
  
He felt her head shake violently. "Want to go back to the stars, Spike," she whispered, tracing patterns on his palm. "Want them to take me home now."  
  
Spike turned and caught her tired gaze. She was starved and alone and afraid. Something in her hadn't quite grasped guilt yet, but she was feeling something and that something was tearing her in two.  
  
"But you didn't come to help your princess," Dru whispered quietly. "You came about the Dark One and your daughter."  
  
It took everything he had to pull himself together and press on. That was why he was here. Not for her. Although, if he could find a way to make this right in the process...  
  
But then, would he be responsible for letting one of the most gifted killers of all time free once more?  
  
The thought boggled his mind as he sat there, giving his warmth to the woman who created him. Did they really do those things? Or was it all a cheap hoax?  
  
"The Dark One knows your child, Spike," Drusilla said quietly. "I will tell you what he knows, but only if you promise to give me a gift."  
  
Spike shifted, turning towards her and settling her down on his chest, holding her like a child. "Anything, Dru. What do you want? I'll do everything..." His eyes sparkled with unshed tears, his heart breaking at the sight of her. The sound of her voice. The smell of decay.  
  
"End this," she whispered, her gaze catching his. Tears streamed down her sunken cheeks as she said it. "End me."  
  
Spike's eyes went wide and wild. "What? Dru, you can't be serious! I can't..."  
  
"Love," she said quietly, her hand rising to his face, her palm ice cold against his cheek. "I cannot be good. I cannot be bad. I cannot be."  
  
"We can help you, Dru," Spike answered, his voice cracking. "Angel. Me. Even Buffy..."  
  
"No," she ordered, her voice as strong as he'd heard it yet. "The stars are calling me home and I will go, with your help or without. If you want your answers, you will take me home. Set me free."  
  
Tears streamed down his face as he stared at her hollow emptiness. Gone was the girl laughing under the stars. Gone was the killer. Gone was the saint. All that was left was the frail shell. And she wanted to go home.  
  
How could he deny her that?  
  
"I brought you into this world, Spike," Drusilla began again. "I was your mum. Take me out of it."  
  
"Dru," Spike breathed, his voice shaking and cracked. "Please. God, please don't..."  
  
"Forsaken," she hissed, "God has forsaken me. Took you back. Took Daddy back. And I, who gave what I have unto Him, He has forsaken me." Her eyes turned again to Spike. "But I will give Him what he asks and maybe He will love me again. Maybe you will love me again."  
  
She sobbed soundlessly against Spike's chest, her bony fingers gripping the lapel of his duster. "Dru...." He whispered, stroking her hair.  
  
"Promise me an end and I will give you your answer. Promise me nothing and leave," Drusilla replied, trying to make her voice as commanding as she could. "My Spike," she continued. "My good Spike. Make a choice."  
  
To be contd. 


	28. Ashes and Stone

Good evening, All!  
  
I know it has been a LONG time in coming for this chapter, alas, real life has come crashing about to destroy my Muse's play time. I hope that it won't happen again anytime soon. However, it's always hard to say!  
  
This is an ANGSTY chapter, one I know many of you won't like. Please understand that what I did was for the sake of the story, and I hope to make it right to you by telling it well.  
  
Please let me know what you think. Feedback is encouraging, and it's something I can surely use at this time.  
  
Thanks for all of your kindness.  
  
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough  
  
Still we trust  
  
Somehow we'll find it there  
  
With no guarantee  
  
It seems to me  
  
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ Always_Everyday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Ashes to Stone (Chapter Twenty-eight - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike goes on his reconnaissance mission to find out what Drusilla knows. What he finds out, however, is nearly enough to kill him. And the price that he pays for information is more than he can handle.  
  
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.  
  
Ashes to Stone  
  
Spike stared down at the fragile creature held to his chest. Her eyes were lost and dead and tired and afraid, but her decision was made. Drusilla was always such an enigma. So frail and delicate, but, at the same time, so strong and so vicious.  
  
And she always knew, in her twisted little way, what she wanted.  
  
And now she wanted it to end.  
  
"Dru," Spike began, feeling the tears well up behind his eyes. "Please, love. Please don't make me..."  
  
"You are the only one to ask, my Spike. The only one left," Drusilla began again, her dark eyes flittering from his face to the sky, as if watching a dialog that no-one but she could perceive.  
  
The pause seemed like hours. Drusilla was silent, cradled against him like a child. She was more vulnerable than he'd ever seen her, but more sure than he'd ever want to admit.  
  
She wanted to go home.  
  
How could he deny her? How could he pretend not to understand? To be stuck in a place where your nature is evil, but your heart suddenly remembers good and right and love and loss. When he had gone through this, he had Buffy to hope for – to *try* for. But Drusilla was alone.  
  
Likely, she always would be. Angel had gone his own way. Darla was dead. And her beloved childe had become too real.  
  
"Dru...." It was more of a plea. Anything. Anything to make her change her mind, because if she *didn't*, he knew he could not deny her her last request.  
  
She smiled softly, a gesture reminiscent of so many strange moments in their past when both of them seemed just a little too... human. "The stars call me home now, Spike. Orion sings. The wheel must stop."  
  
A deep breath in and Spike closed his eyes, nodding. "Love, if that is what you want me to do, I will."  
  
Her skeletal hand wrapped in his and he opened his eyes, the tears now falling. Her smile became brighter, almost radiant, as she studied his face. "You are the knight most valiant, my Spike. You are the brave one."  
  
"Not feeling very brave, my love," Spike answered, holding her closer against him.  
  
"You are," Drusilla answered simply. "And now I can give you my gift."  
  
Drusilla looked at the sky for a long moment, tracing patterns between the points of light with her fingers as if connecting the dots, or tabulating some formula just from the way that the cosmos danced above. "The Dark One is a bad boy," Dru began again. "Not naughty, like my dear boy, or even evil like daddy used to be. His heart is darkness."  
  
"Gwydion?" Spike clarified, earning a nod from the dark princess.  
  
"There is no light there. Doesn't even love his maker. He made me scared, Spike. Even more than daddy. But his face..." She reached up and touched Spike's cheek with her palm, drinking in the sight of her love. "He had your face."  
  
Spike nodded, feeling a tear drip down his face. He understood that. Drusilla had aligned herself with Gwydion not because of the hell he'd planned on unleashing, but rather because he'd taken Spike's father's guise. And Spike, William Windsor, was every inch the spitting image of his father.  
  
Dru was simply lonely.  
  
"He did, Love," Spike confirmed, almost seeing the memories flash through her mind. Maybe it was from being joined with Buffy for so long and seeing flashes of their past.  
  
Or maybe because, at one time, the same blood flowed between himself and his sire.  
  
"The Queen of the Sky has chosen the soul of the one inside of the little Slayer," Drusilla began again; her eyes focused on the line of stars that made up Orion's belt. She was almost in a trance now, her voice smooth and hypnotizing and very far away. "But the soul of the chosen has been corrupted."  
  
"Corrupted?" Spike asked. "Evil?"  
  
Dru shook her head, a tear escaping from her cheeks. "Not evil. Not like us. A golden soul, with tips of roses. But the bug crawled in and left a mark."  
  
In some odd way, Spike understood. He wasn't sure if it was because he knew his dark queen so well, even after all this time. Or because maybe the stars were filling in the blanks. Insanity began to overtake his mind and it set him free.  
  
"Like a bruise, Love?" Spike asked, rocking her against him as he did with Emma when the girl had woken from a bad dream.  
  
"A scar," Drusilla corrected, still lost in the shining line of stars. "It will not matter to the rest of the world, as she will heal. She is only a danger coming back to you."  
  
Spike nodded again, thinking. Trying to formulate, in his grief-addled mind, a way to fight this. A way to move forward. A way not to lose another part of himself.  
  
A smile flitted over Dru's pained face as she stared upwards and it made Spike quirk a brow. "What is it, Love?"  
  
"Hot chocolate," Drusilla said softly. "With the white petals in the dark brown. Sweet like a girl's blood."  
  
Confusion rattled Spike's thoughts. Hot chocolate?  
  
The dark woman became quiet again, the smile disappearing from her face. "The Dark One can control her. He can make her dance. And she will be made to destroy all that she loves."  
  
"Because of the scar, Love?" Spike asked. "Because he's marked her?"  
  
Drusilla nodded. "He made her a puppet. Took her thought and filled her with his own. And she doesn't know the games he plays, "Another eternal pause before Dru spoke again. "She just wants to come home."  
  
Tears began to slide down the wizened face below him and they made his spill from the corners of his eyes. "Can we stop it, Love? Can we take away the scar?"  
  
A shake of the head, and Drusilla's tears fell faster. "Can't take it away. She cannot go home. Like me. She cannot come back to her heart and her little baby."  
  
Spike filed away Dru's words in his memory, hoping that if he could remember any of it after this night was over, he might be able to find a way. But he had to keep her talking. Find out all she knew.  
  
This could be the last chance he had to hear her voice.  
  
"Dru," Spike breathed. "Can we make it right, Pet? Can the stars?"  
  
Drusilla thought for a moment. "Killing the little baby before it is born will make it stop." She paused, watching Spike's face contort in pain and fear. "But you love your little babies and the Knight cannot kill what he is meant to protect."  
  
"No, Love," Spike answered, brushing her hair from her gaunt face. "I can't."  
  
"But you will have to tonight," Drusilla resigned. "Kill the love."  
  
His heart broke in his chest. Thinking of all he was about to lose. No, he wasn't in love with her, but this pathetic, frail, creature in his arms was his everything, his world, for so long. One never forgets...  
  
"I know," he answered swallowing.  
  
Dru nodded her relief. "Only the soul itself, now, can decide not to come home. It is not up to the Fairy Queen or to you or your little golden girls. Only the heart that has wished to come back can choose to remain."  
  
"How?" Spike asked, fear gripping him. "How do we know? How do we ask, my love?"  
  
"Your eldest can take you to the place where the souls sleep. From there, you must only ask. But it is her choice. Her choice to remain or return. To come home to her baby and hot chocolate."  
  
"*To* her baby? Or *as* a baby?" Spike questioned, ignoring the second half, which would, he knew, somehow be important.  
  
"To," Drusilla answered simply. "And you cannot tell her why or the scar she bears will never fade. Knowing it, my prince, will make it real. Her heart will break either way."  
  
Spike nodded, knowing that pain all too well. "And if we convince her?"  
  
"Then the Queen can choose a new soul and that child will be your light, not your darkness."  
  
Dru said nothing more for a long time, her eyes riveted on the sky. When she spoke again, it was a warning she imparted. "There is a new evil near you now. An old one. Like our Master." Spike's thoughts flitted to the fight that seemed an eternity before, but was really just last night. "He wishes to take away your power. Replace you and take your life. He wants to make Peace his own, my Spike. And he wants to use the Key."  
  
Shock flashed on Spike's face. "Emma? Dawn?"  
  
Drusilla nodded. "He does not play our games, my Spike. He will ferret himself into your world under your very nose and try to take away your loves. You cannot let him. You must be brave, my Knight. You must be a Vampire."  
  
More mental filing and Spike nodded. "Can I win, Love?"  
  
A bright smile. Her last, he'd remember later. "My brave Knight always wins."  
  
Like the sun disappearing over the horizon, her smile faded and she became still. There was no more she could give. Spike had no doubt of that. The stars, her mind, her thoughts, were gone. Empty. Purged like the bag of bones curled against his chest.  
  
She opened dark, lost eyes and caught his gaze. "A kiss, my love? To say goodbye?"  
  
The tears began anew and Spike nodded. "Let us help you, Pet. Please."  
  
A small shake of her head and he felt her shift beneath him. A skeletal hand reached below the hem of her dress and a shock of sorrow crashed into him as he realized she was handing him a stake.  
  
One that she'd made herself, judging by small, even claw marks running from base to tip. She'd wanted to go, but could not do it. Some vestige of her old faith clung tight to her. It always had.  
  
God could forgive her her sins were she to return to him. But she could not be forgiven for taking her own life.  
  
He felt the sob hitch in his chest as he took it, his hand brushing hers as she let go. "Please, Pet. Please don't."  
  
The hand that had held the stake reached up to his cheek, cold flesh pressing to warm. "Be brave, my Spike. Be brave, my Love. You will always win."  
  
She shifted again, pushing herself up and curling an arm around his neck, her face mere inches from his. With her free hand, she took the fist in which he held her death and pulled it to her chest, the point pressing to the material over her heart. "My beautiful William."  
  
"Dru," he choked out, sobs wracking him now. "Dru..."  
  
"Let it be done, my beautiful boy. Let me go home."  
  
Drusilla leaned forward, pressing her lips to his almost chastely. She tasted of spice and honey and darkness and loss. Her hand held his face to hers as she kissed the tears from his cheeks, then pressed her lips once more to his.  
  
"Set me free, my Knight."  
  
He nodded against her, tasting her lips, feeling her cold, frail body shudder. Her mouth so sweet and soft.  
  
"Set me free, my love."  
  
With a sob, his wrist twitched.  
  
And she was gone.  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
Buffy awoke in a panic. Pain and fear and sadness and terror, and every other dark emotion she could think of, rattled her. She screamed. It was all she could do.  
  
Footsteps pounded down the hall. Fast. Furious.  
  
The door swung open.  
  
Buffy was still screaming.  
  
"My God, Buffy. What's wrong? What's happened?" The soothing, English voice barely made it to her ears. It was the wrong soothing, English voice. The wrong one right now.  
  
"Buffy? Is it your arm? Shall I call Takina?" A long pause and then fear took over the man's face. "The baby?"  
  
Sobs wracked the small girl on the bed. "Spike. God, Spike."  
  
Buffy pushed herself upright and swung her legs over the edge of the bed. "I have to go to him. Giles, I have to go..."  
  
"Buffy, it's not safe. What's happened? Is he..." Confusion and contagious panic began to fill him. He and Spike had had their differences, but he was a part of Buffy now. A part of them all. And his children....  
  
She shook her head, pushing herself upright, almost fainting from the pain in her arm and the fear and loss in her heart. "Not dead. Not dead. Something inside died. Something inside..."  
  
"Buffy?" Giles asked, cautiously moving towards her. She looked as though she'd hit the floor any moment. "Does he need help?"  
  
"Me," she muttered. "Needs me." Stumbling with every step, she forced herself to the dresser. "Now. Needs me."  
  
Giles nodded, knowing it was unsafe and knowing Spike would likely at least threaten to rip his head off for even thinking of allowing this, but the panic Buffy was in dictated that there was no stopping her. "It will take hours to get there, Buffy."  
  
She stopped, thinking for a moment, and then reached for the phone. "Get the car," she ordered, almost catatonic. "Is Willow here?"  
  
Giles nodded. "I'll wake her and ask her to mind the children. But I won't allow you to go alone."  
  
Buffy nodded, giving up on fighting, her fingers pressing buttons furiously. "Get the car," she said to Giles in that same, empty voice. He could hear a voice answer on the other end of the phone line and Buffy spoke.  
  
"Angel? I don't want to argue or talk about this. Go to Spike. Now. Do you understand?"  
  
Apparently, she got the answer she wanted, because she disconnected the call and tossed the phone on the bed.  
  
"Get the car!"  
  
~~~@~~~@~~~@~~~  
  
He wasn't sure how long he'd been sitting there, propped against that stone wall staring at the stars. The tears had strangely stopped when the stake tumbled from his hand and clattered to the stone beneath him.  
  
Ashes stuck to his face where the tears used to be.  
  
Orion twinkled above him. How did stars twinkle? Did God have a little remote with a dimmer and just toyed round with it a bit?  
  
Breezes passed down the corridors, sounding like banshees. Or sirens singing. Or Hell.  
  
The emptiness she must have felt sitting in this spot all that time... alone.  
  
No, he couldn't think about that. Then the tears would come and wash away her ashes.  
  
A dead rose stuttered in the breeze and fell into the wildflowers below. One more dead rose. One more dead. One more gone. One more lost. Loss. Loss. Loss.  
  
A heartbeat in the background. Loud. Strong. Clop. Clop. Clop. Clop.  
  
No heartbeat. Shouldn't have one. Do. Shouldn't. Dead. Soulless. Dead. Gone. No breath. No breath. No breath.  
  
The heartbeat got louder, but he couldn't see. Clop. Clop. Only Orion, and he was singing. Singing loud and clear and beautiful. Maybe he'd given her a home. Maybe he told God to forgive her. Could be. Could be. He wasn't the one who really deserved to be forgiven.  
  
Never happens that way.  
  
Clop. Clop. Clop.  
  
The stars were gone.  
  
The shadow blocked them out. Then it dropped to a crouch in front of him. A ghost? Ghosts didn't block the stars.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
Blue eyes shining with tears flickered to the form in front of him.  
  
Angel.  
  
He should have been the one. He made her. He should have let her go.  
  
Didn't matter now.  
  
She was gone.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
"Gone now," Spike answered, his voice distant and lost. "She's gone. I broke her. I broke me."  
  
Angel shook his head, close to tears himself. "I broke her, Spike. You fixed her."  
  
Spike blinked, shaking his head. "Gone now."  
  
The older Vampire nodded softly. "I felt her go."  
  
A nod from the blond. He looked like a child, propped against the wall so lost. "I killed her."  
  
"You saved her," Angel answered, moving to Spike's side and sitting down next to his grandchilde.  
  
"Gone," Spike repeated, looking at his hands. Ash and tears clung to his skin. "All that's left."  
  
He raised his hands to Angel and looked at him, tears welling, waiting to fall. Asking permission from the one who raised them both.  
  
Angel stared at Spike's hands and his heart broke in his chest. Spike had done the one thing that Angel couldn't bring himself to do, even though he *knew* it was the only choice. Let the dark princess go. Let his childe go.  
  
Let her be forgiven.  
  
Larger hands moved down to Spike's and brought the palms to his face, kissing them both. Ash touched his lips and the tears started to fall.  
  
"Gone now," Spike repeated, the tears catching his throat. "Sent her to Hell. Let her down."  
  
Angel shook his head. "No, William. The demon might go to Hell, but that sweet girl, the one I took away from Heaven, gets to go home now. You let her go."  
  
"Why?" Spike asked, finally breaking. Tears streamed down his face. "Why'd we get to..."  
  
"Love?" Angel asked. "Be loved. Be forgiven? I don't know if I have, Spike, but you deserved it. Just like her."  
  
Spike was quiet a moment. "Thousands. Thousands of thousands, Angel. We killed them all."  
  
Angel nodded. "We did. We can't take it back, Spike. You and I... we've learned to live with it. Most of the time, at least. But she...."  
  
"Too innocent in life," Spike finished. "Couldn't... she couldn't face..."  
  
"She shouldn't have had to," Angel answered, looking at Spike's palms. "And there's nothing I can do now to take that back either."  
  
A hint of anger crept into Spike; one that he was sure would become more. But he was too empty to make it stick. "Should've been you, Angel. You should have been the one."  
  
Another nod. "You're right. But I wasn't strong enough." He was quiet for a moment, following Spike's eyes to the glittering line of stars. "And it wasn't me she loved. It wasn't me she wanted to see as she left. It wasn't me she needed to make peace with."  
  
A sob wracked Spike. "She knew, dammit. She *knew*. Right and wrong. Good and bad. Monsters and men. She had to *live* with that. Alone. God, Angel..."  
  
Spike hunched over, sobs shaking the younger Vampire. Angel felt his own tears threaten to spill over the ashes and stone. The emptiness. Slowly, not sure if it was the right thing or not, he wrapped his arm around his grandchilde. Spike curled into him like a child.  
  
And they cried for their lost princess.  
  
To be contd. 


	29. What We Are

Good evening, All!  
  
Yes, two weeks of straight angst! Although this is a bit less angsty than last week, it still carries some sadness. Try and stick with me to the gooey center, or happy ending, whichever I get to first.  
  
And for those of you fans of the "other" Nim (Evil!Nim is afoot), I am hoping to start that Master!Spike series shortly. Just hang in there....  
  
Without further ado...  
  
Oh, and please give me love. I need your lurrrrvvveeee....  
  
Enjoy!  
  
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough  
  
Still we trust  
  
Somehow we'll find it there  
  
With no guarantee  
  
It seems to me  
  
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: What We Are (Chapter Twenty-nine - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike goes on his reconnaissance mission to find out what Drusilla knows. What he finds out, however, is nearly enough to kill him. And the price that he pays for information is more than he can handle.  
  
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.  
  
What We Are  
  
It was bad.  
  
This Angel knew.  
  
His relationship with his grandchilde had been tumultuous at best since Angelus had become Angel. It was downright hostile when they shared the love of a woman, as they had with Drusilla and, later, with Buffy. They'd beaten each other to a bloody pulp on more occasions than either of them chose to remember at this stage. And they'd raged in unison and in opposition.  
  
But Spike had never needed his comfort before.  
  
Or maybe he had and Angel had never noticed.  
  
To be honest, the latter was probably the more likely. Spike had always been sensitive. Even at his most... evil?... he'd been the one to be hurt by it all. Hurt by the games. Hurt by the way the world worked, both for humans and for Vampires. He'd probably cried like this before.  
  
Did he cry with Buffy?  
  
When the hitching sobs and violent shaking began to wane, Angel just forgot about it all. Let it be. Right now, Spike needed help and their attitude towards each other really didn't matter. They'd lost. They'd both lost something so dear to them that it was almost like air. Like losing one's breath. Even if Buffy hadn't called, Angel would have come. Because this was the one thing that Spike and Angel could agree on.  
  
Drusilla.  
  
And she was gone.  
  
With painstaking slowness, Angel lifted himself to his feet, battling his own round of hitching sobs that he was sure would be let loose in a rain of fists at some point or other. Or Cordelia would get to him first, niggle her way past his defenses and make him cry it out. He hated when she did that, yet loved her for it.  
  
Spike was like a rag doll. Empty and limp, falling back against the wall when Angel's arm moved. Ashes streaked his cheeks. His hands. His clothes. They needed to get away from here. They needed to be... they just needed to leave.  
  
A hand under Spike's shoulder and Angel lifted the smaller man to his feet, taking his hand like a father would a son. Leading him out of the courtyard in numbed silence.  
  
This was bad.  
  
Spike was never silent.  
  
The walk through the stone corridors was even longer on the way out. Spike winced every time their boots struck stone. Like a kicked dog. Or a dead man walking.  
  
And the blond clung to his hand.  
  
Gone. Gone. Gone.  
  
Gone. Gone. Gone.  
  
She's gone.  
  
Stars singing.  
  
Daddy's here. Don't want daddy. Want my girl. Want my girl. Want vanilla and soft and warm. So warm. Not dying. Not dying in my arms. Alive. And warm. And sweet and soft. And warm.  
  
But daddy's here and he'll take me to her. He'll bring her to me. He'll kill the bastard that hurt my princess.  
  
I am the bastard.  
  
The sound hurts.  
  
Where is my warm gold? Where is my girl? Little strong girl. With my babies. Want my babies. Want my girl.  
  
Don't want to lose everything. Not now. Not now.  
  
The sound hurts.  
  
The stars sing. Did they take her? Did they take my plum back? Will they love her like I did once? Will they make the hurt go away?  
  
Hurt.  
  
Loss.  
  
Lost.  
  
The sound hurts.  
  
They were outside the mission now. That was good. Parked in front was the old black convertible, Gunn in the passenger seat.  
  
What? He wasn't about to find Spike alone after what he knew had happened. Spike was supposed to be angry. Spike was supposed to be beating the un- life out of him, blaming him for having to make the choice himself. Blaming him for driving Dru mad. Blaming him for hurting her. Using her. Leaving her dead and not letting her go.  
  
It was his fault.  
  
It should have been him.  
  
Gunn was silent as Angel walked to the car. Two Vampires, both tracked with tears and ash, were walking a funeral march towards him. He wasn't stupid. When Angel nodded at the motorcycle parked along the side of the wall, Gunn knew that that was his cue to go.  
  
And a good cue it was. The last thing he wanted was to be between two lost Vampires who had a tendency to let any emotion, unchecked, turn into rage. Nope. Motorcycles were good. Even if there wasn't a helmet.  
  
As Gunn jumped from the car, he took another look at the pair. Angel loaded Spike into the passenger seat with something that looked like caring. Spike looked... like those war movies. Shell-shocked. Completely lost inside a Hell that everyone knew about, but wasn't the same from one person to the next. He felt sorry for them.  
  
He understood killing someone you loved, after all.  
  
Angel got behind the wheel as Gunn revved the motorcycle. This is bad, he thought. Spike hasn't even flinched. Hasn't questioned some man he's barely met taking his prized bike. Doesn't even seem to have recognized the sound, despite the fact that it usually made him as giddy as a kid.  
  
This was bad.  
  
Angel drove away, gravel flying from the tires underneath. Somewhere, as uncomfortable as it always was, he hoped Buffy was on her way. She was the only one... Spike needed help.  
  
And he hoped Cordelia would be up....  
  
The car was silent.  
  
Giles looked over at her as he drove, utterly awake considering it was four AM. Nothing like a good bout of early morning screaming to get a man in motion.  
  
Buffy was muttering wordlessly, rocking, her arm cradled to her chest and her face set in fear. Nothing she was saying, even the words that made sounds, made much sense. Gone. Gone. Gone. Stars singing.  
  
Somewhere, inside his overactive Watcher's mind, he knew he should be taking note. Knew that the words and the actions and the terror and sadness etched on his charge's face didn't belong solely to her. That this connection, this lifeline that brought the One together, forced her to feel the other half's pain, even though she didn't completely understand why. She didn't question it.  
  
It was Spike, Giles was certain, that was repeating those words. It was Spike bent over in pain and in anguish and in fear. And no one knew why. The Watcher could almost see him in the passenger seat, a ghost over the image of his Slayer. Slumped forward in the same manner. Mouth moving wordlessly. Eyes as empty as dust.  
  
No, he wasn't dead. Were he in mortal danger, Buffy would either be dying along with him, or she'd be screaming at her Watcher to drive faster.  
  
Something inside of him was dead. That's what Buffy had said. Something died and she needed him.  
  
What?  
  
The hotel was bright, lights on all over the building. He didn't want an audience. He didn't think Spike would notice. All Angel wanted to do was find Spike somewhere safe where he couldn't snap out of this and hurt himself before Buffy found them. And he wanted to talk to Cordy. And he wanted a drink. Several.  
  
Spike was as easy to lead from the car as he was to put in – a shell of himself, completely traumatized, clinging to his grandsire's hand and muttering wordlessly into the night.  
  
Angel led him inside, where, thankfully, Gunn had arrived first and told the others to just stay out of the way. Lorne and Fred and Gunn were standing next to the desk, concerned looks on their faces. Cordy stood in the center of the lobby, strong and fiery and brave. But she didn't speak. Merely took Angel's other hand and led them up the stairs into an empty suite.  
  
Set up on the table was a bottle of whiskey and three glasses. It was dimly lit and quiet and a bed was made, presumably for Spike. How Cordy knew to do these things, he'd never understand. Unless, of course, there happened to be a vision – although Angel doubted that the Powers had any interest in saving Dru. Cordy probably didn't either, but she recognized that it hurt him, and she let any feelings she had for the Vampire community aside, excluding Angel and sometimes Spike, and did her best.  
  
"Thought you might want a drink," Cordy said softly as Angel settled Spike into a chair. She poured three tall glasses full of amber liquid. "He okay?"  
  
"No," Angel answered quietly, taking two of them and walking back to Spike. "Hey. Want a drink?" Angel asked softy, beginning to open Spike's hand and place the glass inside.  
  
The blond's hand was streaked with ashes.  
  
"We need a towel. Or something. Anything," Angel said desperately. "Please, Cordelia."  
  
But she was already darting to the bathroom, wetting a rag. It didn't matter why right now. Only that a man who was usually full of annoying words was silent, and her love was about to lose it all over again.  
  
She ran back into the room and knelt down in front of Spike. "What is it?" She asked, taking Spike's hand gently. He snatched it back a few times, clenching his fingers into fists until Angel finally put a hand on his grandchilde's shoulder and squeezed.  
  
"You have to let her go, Spike."  
  
Spike shook his head, but allowed Cordelia to gently wipe his hands clean. Nowhere else. He shook his head violently when Cordy tried to wipe his face or brush off his clothes. He snatched the ash-covered dishtowel from her hands and held it on his lap when his hands were clean, but he never said a word.  
  
And Cordelia didn't flinch.  
  
Angel walked back again and placed the drink in Spike's open hand. The blond stared a moment, then lifted the glass to his lips, took a sip and closed his eyes.  
  
"What was that?" Cordelia asked, returning from the restroom, washed up and taking a sip of her own drink.  
  
Angel ran a hand through his hair, staying near Spike, but moving closer to Cordy. "It was Dru."  
  
"She attacked you guys with ash bombs?" Cordy asked, quirking an eyebrow. Angel's eyes dropped and he could feel his tears well again. She didn't know everything. Cordy couldn't, no matter how much she figured out on her own.  
  
But she put two and two together like a champ. "Oh... Oh, God." Angel looked up and caught her gaze, nodding. "Did... Oh, God. Did you make him kill her?"  
  
Angel shook his head. "She was dead when I got there."  
  
Again, Cordy nodded. "He... why?"  
  
"She wanted to be done. She wanted to go home," Angel answered, feeling the tears begin to spill. "And it should have been me to send her there, Cordelia. Not him. I made her. I tortured her and I killed her fam..."  
  
She placed a finger over his lips and then leaned forward, kissing his forehead. "Shhh. It doesn't matter right now, okay? Not tonight."  
  
Angel nodded and felt himself falling forward into her arms and crying like a child.  
  
The three remaining AI members were still sitting in the lobby by the desk when the doors swung open in a mighty heave. Three heads shot up to see a middle aged man in jeans and a Henley and a tiny blonde with her arm in a sling, looking as haggard as the two Vampires who had entered an hour or so before.  
  
"Sorry to intrude," Giles began politely, "but..."  
  
Gunn nodded. "Kinda figured you were coming," he interrupted, trying to smile. "Good thing she did, you know. The boss isn't always the best at consoling..."  
  
"I'll... I'll go get them, "Fred chimed in, darting past the visitors towards the stairs. Lorne proffered drinks, for which Giles was most grateful. By the looks of things, the cocktails had been free flowing for at least an hour or so.  
  
Buffy stood at the bottom of the staircase staring up. Waiting.  
  
This was bad. Normally, she'd burst in and just... find him. Maybe she wasn't sure what there was to find. Maybe she needed to know if he was all right first. Maybe....  
  
Angel appeared looking worn and dusty at the top of the stairs. He motioned for Buffy to come up, nodding at Giles in recognition. Fred scampered down the stairs to the Watcher, corralling him into the group left behind. Cordelia lingered with Angel at the top for a moment, then made her way down as well, hugging Buffy as they passed in the middle.  
  
Grief changes everything.  
  
Buffy reached the top of the stairs and Angel took her hand, much as he'd taken Spike's, and led her down the hallway to the room where Spike was resting. Well, sitting. He hadn't moved from the spot Angel had placed him. Other than to occasionally lift the glass to his lips, Spike hadn't moved at all.  
  
"Buffy," Angel said quietly, stopping in front of the closed door. "I know you and Spike... I know there's a connection. Did you see... do you know?"  
  
Buffy shook her head. "I can't see inside, Angel. I just... I can feel him. And he's... empty. Like something died..."  
  
Angel closed his eyes for a long moment. "Something did. Try. Please try to understand. He loves you. As much as I hate to face it sometimes, you love each other more than either of you have ever loved anything else." He was quiet, studying the truth of that in Buffy's face. "But he loved her once too. Not like you. Totally different, but they were connected. She made him."  
  
Surprisingly, Buffy nodded. "I know."  
  
He shook his head. "You don't, Buffy. You understand a whole lot more about Vampires than most Humans, but you can't understand this. We, all of us in the line, are connected. The Master. Darla. Me. Dru. Spike. We've all shared the same blood. Most of the time, we don't even like each other, but it doesn't change what we are. All of us, Buffy. We're all part of it, no matter what happens. "  
  
Again, Buffy nodded. "I think I understand."  
  
Angel nodded. "Drusilla's dead, Buffy. Spike killed her."  
  
That, she didn't expect. That she wasn't prepared for. Now, she got it. Now she got the dying parts. The emptiness. The hollow pit inside them both.  
  
There were some people that it just hurt to lose. It didn't really matter what your relationship was to them before they left. Like her dad. She didn't really care much what happened to the man who had abandoned her family. She didn't really know where he was or what he was doing. But when he died, she knew she'd feel it. And she knew she'd feel loss.  
  
With Dru and Spike, it was compounded by a century of being the only ones. The lost ones. Even though Buffy was jealous of that love, she knew that it was part of Spike. She knew that it led him on, in however crooked a path, to her. And she knew that Spike loved her, not Dru, more than life itself.  
  
But that didn't change the pain. It didn't change the loss. The loss she'd feel if Angel wasn't standing in front of her. The loss she'd feel if any of her friends died.  
  
The loss she felt when she found her mom on the couch.  
  
"He needs you, Buffy," Angel said softly, his hand on the doorknob. "He loves you."  
  
"I know," Buffy answered quietly, hugging Angel once. "And I'm sorry."  
  
"We'll talk later," Angel whispered, brushing a lock of hair from her face. "Don't let him fall, Buffy. He did the right thing."  
  
Buffy smiled softly. "I'll catch him."  
  
And then she turned and walked into the darkened room.  
  
To be contd. 


	30. Hurricanes

Good evening, All!  
  
Well, I managed to get another chapter out on time. I'm thankful to real life for giving me a respite.  
  
The chapter is still angsty, but I think you'll find comfort in it, as will Spike and Buffy. There are two versions of this chapter – a PG-13, which is the ff.net and regular list versions, and an NC-17, which is only on Vamp Sundae.  
  
The bad news – it is unlikely, although not impossible, that there will be a MtB chapter next week. The good news is that I'm writing 2 smutty birthday fics this week for two of our fabulous list members and, if they are nice and want to share, I can post them instead.  
  
I hope you like this chapter, and really, feedback means the world to me. Even if it's just a sentence.  
  
Thanks for reading!  
  
In Kindness, Nimue "Though beauty is rare enough  
  
Still we trust  
  
Somehow we'll find it there  
  
With no guarantee  
  
It seems to me  
  
At least it should be fair" - Allison Krauss - That Kind of Love  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Hurricanes (Chapter Thirty - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Buffy arrives and Spike cannot handle what has happened. It's in her hands now.  
  
WARNING: MAJOR ANGST. I can't tell you what, but read at your own risk. I felt it necessary and organic to the story, so please try and understand and try not to hate me.  
  
Hurricanes  
  
He sat as still as a statue, a half empty glass of thick, amber fluid balanced in his hand, as the door clicked closed behind her. There was no movement when she took a step toward him; just the glassy stillness of a frozen pond with a hurricane raging beneath.  
  
This was not good.  
  
Another step and the hurricane broke through the battlements that she hadn't even known she'd erected in her mind. Torrents crashed down on her with tsunami force. Loss and lost and fear and loathing and, most of all, grief. Buffy shuddered, gooseflesh trailing up her spine, and took one more step.  
  
This time, he turned his head and looked.  
  
And the hurricane floods poured from the stormy blue eyes of a little lost boy.  
  
Gone. Gone. Gone.  
  
Soft voices.  
  
Open door. Shut door.  
  
Click.  
  
Pause.  
  
Click.  
  
Pause.  
  
Click.  
  
Her.  
  
My girl. My girl. My girl.  
  
Please help me.  
  
Please.  
  
She crossed the remaining distance between them in the blink of an eye as he reached for her. He fell forward, glass shattering on the hard wood floor, his knees hitting the ground with a thump and a crunch.  
  
Buffy skidded in front of him, falling, dropping down in broken glass and spilled liquor, reaching to him. Trying to stop the floods. Staunch the bleeding.  
  
Before she could even touch him, he grabbed at her desperately, gathering her to him, holding so tightly she had to wriggle in order to get the heavy splint out of the death grip. Tears rained in her hair as strong fingers dug into her back, grasping for purchase to stop from sliding.  
  
Sliding.  
  
Falling.  
  
"Buffy," he moaned, his voice a pained whisper as kisses rained on top of tears. His voice hurt to use, to hear, but he needed her – wanted her to know that he understood it was her. Give her the chance to sit this one out. Let her bow out of comforting him in his grief over the only love that had mattered before her.  
  
But she didn't shy away. She pulled her head back just enough to angle her face toward his, locking stormy blue in watery jade. "I'm here, Spike," she soothed. "I won't ever leave, okay?"  
  
He nodded, his hands finding her face, drinking in her warmth. Trying to belong.  
  
Belong.  
  
Belong.  
  
"Mine," Spike growled, his grief-torn face flashing from Human to Vampire and back again as if the energy of holding either mask was too much to maintain.  
  
Buffy swallowed, closing her eyes. "Yours," she answered, tilting her head and exposing a golden expanse of neck to his needy face.  
  
Sobs wracked him, choking off his breath, as she lay open and trusting before him. He leaned forward, Vampire mask to the fore, scenting, smelling, feeling her pulse.  
  
The pulse of their child.  
  
He didn't want to be a Vampire.  
  
Not tonight.  
  
Not with her ashes still clinging to his skin.  
  
Spike's hands took hold of her face and leveled her eyes with his. She blinked, looking up at him as he stared at her, so warm and human and full of life. "Mine," he choked out, his lips finding hers with hurricane force, but his body loosening in the familiar safety of her embrace. "Mineminemineminemineminemine."  
  
"Yours."  
  
He lifted her, lips and tongue still searching, tasting, finding, and carried her towards the bathroom. Have to be clean for her. Have to be good for her.  
  
Have to wash it away.  
  
Wash away the sin.  
  
Need her. Need her.  
  
Spike brought his mind under control enough to set her gently to the tile floor, one hand tangled in her hair, the other fingering the hem of her shirt with restless, desperate, fingers.  
  
"Please, Buffy," he whimpered. "Need you."  
  
She smiled softly, touching his face. Feeling the chalky paste of dust and tears. "Might need a little help," she answered, pulling her braced arm away from her body and into his line of sight.  
  
"Don't want to hurt you," he whispered, his face breaking in torment. "Never hurt you. Never lose you."  
  
Buffy took his hand and placed it on her shoulder where the strap of her sling crossed golden skin. "It's okay, baby," she soothed, urging him to lift it from her. As she felt the strap move up, she ducked under, speaking to him softly all the while.  
  
"You won't hurt me, Spike. You'll never hurt me. I love you. I need you."  
  
His tears fell in large, heavy drops as his lips met hers in desperation, one hand dropping the sling to the ground, the other delicately holding her arm until he could rest it at her side.  
  
"Hurt because of me. Dead because of me," he muttered, fingers circling her waist to the button of her jeans, undressing her with a gentleness in direct counterpoint to the hunger in his eyes. The need in his kiss.  
  
"Alive again because of you," she answered, stepping out of her jeans, feeling her own tears fall as he worked off her tank top with the gentleness of a thousand millennia of love.  
  
"Gone." His voice was broken as he stared at her with lost eyes, trying to find her warmth. Trying to drink it from her like brandy.  
  
"Here," Buffy replied, placing his hand on her cheek and then reaching down to tug his shirt from his jeans. She swallowed, watching his heartbreak in his eyes as he took over, exposing a body so beautiful and unblemished that it was almost impossible to imagine the wreckage that lay beneath. "She's home now," Buffy continued softly, so softly, as Spike stepped from his dusty jeans.  
  
He stopped, hearing her words, as he leaned forward to run the bath. His eyes squeezed shut, but tears still escaped and his body trembled in fear and anguish and loss. She leaned forward, turning on the taps and then taking his hand and leading him to the basin as warm water filled the tub.  
  
Silently, she wet a cloth, raising it to his face. Spike flinched as she neared him. He wanted to clean away the horror and still not lose what was left.  
  
All that he had left of her.  
  
Buffy stopped, pressing her hand to his heart, reading him as only she ever could.  
  
"She's in here, still, Spike."  
  
His eyes opened and the sobs came anew as he watched her gently raise her hand to his face. She paused and waited until he nodded. A slow, almost imperceptible move.  
  
With gentle strokes, she wiped his face like a child's, cleaning away the ash and the horror, the murder and the loss. The sin. Cleaning him with a reverence that surprised even his grief-addled mind. Respecting not only him, but the one he'd lost with the sweetness of her movements, the gentle sound of her voice.  
  
But she couldn't brush away the tears.  
  
In silence, she led him back to the tub.  
  
Spike's eyes fluttered open.  
  
Warm arms were around him. Warm legs tangled around his thighs. A slow, steady heart beat under his ear.  
  
What had happened hit him as reality came flooding to the fore.  
  
With a start, he pushed himself off, the water swooshing around. Buffy jumped a bit, startled from her peaceful reverie, however short it had been.  
  
"Buffy!" Spike gasped, inspecting her visually, his hands running over her face and neck. "God, Buffy. Did I..."  
  
"Fine," she answered, smiling softly. "One piece girl."  
  
His shoulders dropped, his hand skimming down her arm and stopping at her elbow. "You... more hurt?"  
  
With a soft shake of the head, she smiled again. "Never left the safety of the side of the tub of lust."  
  
Spike nodded, leaning down to kiss the wound, his lips as gentle as butterfly wings. Darkness crossed his features once again and Buffy steeled herself for the anger she was sure would soon follow the grief.  
  
But it wasn't anger he was feeling.  
  
Not yet.  
  
Fear moved across his eyes like storm clouds, gathering to near explosion. "The baby?"  
  
Buffy chuckled. "When are you going to learn that the kid of a Slayer and a Vampire can take a little moving around?" He stared at her, unconvinced. "Look. Why don't we go into the room and lay down, okay? You can make sure yourself."  
  
Spike nodded, pushing himself to his feet and climbing out of the tub. He leaned down, scooping her up in his arms, careful not to catch her arm between them, and settled her on the floor. With painstaking care, he wrapped a towel around her tiny body, rubbing her softly, studying her still for any sign of injury, other than the one with which she'd entered this room.  
  
Once satisfied he hadn't hurt her as well, he picked her up again, carrying her back into the bedroom and laying her down on the sheets. She studied him closely as he fussed about, making sure she was dry and in one piece before taking her towel and drying himself.  
  
He still looked lost and sad and afraid, but fatigue was taking its toll. He didn't look as alone, though. Some part of him was anchored now, shored to reality. Shored to her.  
  
It was all right to sleep.  
  
He climbed into bed on her good side, pressing so close to her he became just an extension of her warmth. His threw his leg across her and scooted down her naked body until his ear rested against her belly, then curled in a ball around her.  
  
Buffy watched him, stroking his hair, trying to soothe him. Let him know that it would be okay. They would be okay. All of them.  
  
Even Dru.  
  
Spike shifted, growling once. "Can't hear, Buffy. Can't..."  
  
With a gentle hand, Buffy guided him further towards her abdomen, and then stroked his hair again. "She's little, Spike. Be calm. She's fine."  
  
Spike closed his eyes and listened, his hand stroking Buffy's side as he concentrated, letting his own heart slow. Listening to the sound of Buffy's strong, steady beat.  
  
And it came to him. Fast and fluttery like a bird. Pounding out a staccato beat a million miles away, but right beneath his cheek.  
  
It would be okay.  
  
They would be okay.  
  
All of them.  
  
Even Dru.  
  
With the sound of their heartbeats beneath him, Buffy's hand soothing him from above, he fell into oblivion, safe.  
  
Finally, safe.  
  
To be contd. 


	31. On Winning

Good evening, All.  
  
And back to the story.  
  
Thanks for your patience last week. Birthday fics are very important to me and I wanted to make my friends happy.  
  
Hope you like the chapter. The angst is dying down a bit, but I'm sure there's more to come. Oh, and a happy ending.  
  
Enjoy!  
  
In Peace, Nimue "When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth, you are weeping for that which has been your delight." Kahlil Gibran The Prophet  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: On Winning (Chapter Thirty-one - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: The crew deals with the aftermath of what is a great loss to both Spike and Angel. Spike begins to remember what Drusilla told him before her death.  
  
On Winning  
  
A soft knock at the bedroom door stirred Buffy from her half-slumber. Spike's exhaustion, as well as his sense of safety wrapped around Buffy, prevented him from swimming back to reality. In his position, Buffy thought, she would probably choose to stay asleep as well.  
  
After a prerequisite long moment to allow for decency, Cordelia cracked open the door and snapped it quietly shut behind her. Without speaking, she padded barefoot to the chair next to the bed. Spike purred, clutching tighter to Buffy's waist, and Buffy carded her hands through soft, blond locks to reassure him.  
  
"I brought up some clothes," Cordelia whispered, arranging jeans and a gray t-shirt as well as a flannel overshirt and boxers on the chair next to the bed. "They're Wesley's. I called and asked first, you know, to prevent the British tirade when you get back." She paused for a moment, watching them. "It's the closest I could come to Spike's size. And Wes was fresh out of black...."  
  
Buffy chuckled. "That's like... heresy to Spike." She looked over the clothes spread neatly on the chair. "You know he'll never wear the box..."  
  
"Wesley states, and I quote, 'Spike is welcome to my clothes, however, as I'd eventually like my trousers back, be sure to take a fresh pair of under things. I'm well aware of the trappings of family, however, they do not include allowing another man's bits to flop about in one's pants', end quote," Cordelia completed, affecting her best British accent and staving off a laughing fit.  
  
Buffy covered her mouth and shook with silent laughter. Spike growled softly and buried his head against her abdomen before settling back into sleep. Cordy watched them thoughtfully for a moment. "Weird, hunh? How we spent all our time in high school fighting Vampires and then..."  
  
"Then we fell in love with them?" Buffy finished, voicing what Cordy couldn't, or wouldn't, say.  
  
"In all of their irritating glory," Cordelia finally answered, letting out a breath she didn't know she'd been holding, "Speaking of the great brooding one, I'd better get back. He's..."  
  
"Hurt," Buffy answered simply. "I know we can't understand the whole Vampire sire-childe thing, but I get loss."  
  
A derisive snort and Cordelia agreed. "Hellmouth girl. I get loss." She turned and walked to the door, stopping briefly before turning the knob, but not looking back. "I get love and strength now too."  
  
With that, she quietly left.  
  
Dreams ripped through him like tornadoes. Not the kind of dreams that tell a story or pass in a nice, linear order. No, these were random images, flashing through his sleeping mind, unchecked by rational thought.  
  
Soft. Warm. Bird heartbeat. Sweet. Vanilla. Mine. Mine.  
  
Dark.  
  
Dead rose falling. Shattered glass. White and black. Wind. Dust. Dust.  
  
An angel.  
  
White robes. Pale skin. Red lips. Dark, shining hair. Smiling.  
  
Smiling.  
  
Hot chocolate. White flower petals. Green ball of light. Serene white with a child inside.  
  
Dark robes. A young, handsome face. Yellow eyes. Blood.  
  
Darkness.  
  
Green light. Woman.  
  
White light. Child.  
  
Darkness.  
  
Protect them, my William.  
  
The screech of a bird.  
  
Thudding heartbeats.  
  
A scream.  
  
Protect them.  
  
Buffy awoke with a start. Spike was up, bolting around the bedroom like a beast trapped in a cage, his mind too rattled to accomplish even the simplest task. His eyes flashed from blue to amber to blue in a lightshow of upset.  
  
She propped herself up on the pillows, watching him for a moment, judging the safety of speech. Deciding that the sheer terror that poured from him in waves was worth the chance she'd catch him off guard.  
  
"Spike?"  
  
He stopped moving, calming just a bit from hearing her voice. "Go."  
  
Buffy furrowed her brow. "You want me to go?"  
  
Spike shook his head as if words had left him. "We." A pause. "Danger. Master."  
  
She sighed, relaxing a little. "Giles had Willow set up wards before we left," Buffy comforted. "No one will get her with Willow and Tara there."  
  
A low growl and Spike shook his head, frustrated that he couldn't speak his thoughts. He stumbled upon the clothes Cordelia had brought and began to dress hastily, tossing the boxers to the floor. "Nibblet."  
  
Buffy sat bolt upright, swinging her legs over the side of the bed and wincing. Spike felt the wave of pain and stopped dead, moving quietly to the side of the bed and gently lifting her to her feet. Once steady, he set about gathering her clothes.  
  
"What about Dawn?" Buffy asked, cradling her arm against her naked chest.  
  
"Danger. Wants them. Go." Spike growled, beginning to dress her with a gentleness in direct counterpoint to his current state of confusion. Buffy didn't know if she was more afraid of what he had said, or the fact that he'd lost his ability to express himself.  
  
Spike was never at a loss for words.  
  
"Spike," Buffy whispered, raising her uninjured hand to touch his face. "Tell me what's wrong."  
  
Eyelashes wet with unshed tears, he shook his head. "Please. Go first. Talk later. Please."  
  
With a soft smile, Buffy nodded and grabbed her phone on the nightstand. "It's daylight now. I'm going to call Dawn and tell her to go to our house, okay? With Willow."  
  
Spike nodded, kissed her forehead and bolted for the door.  
  
"ANGEL!!!!"  
  
They were in Angel's convertible, tearing up the five north towards Sunnydale. Buffy had given a half-explanation and Spike had commandeered Angel's car, because he didn't want to risk Buffy and their newest on the back of the motorcycle.  
  
Angel agreed, but only on the condition that they allow him and his people to help with the situation back in Sunnydale. Grudgingly, Spike agreed, knowing that he'd have his hands full with saving their unborn. The help was almost welcome.  
  
Giles was to leave just behind them, with Cordelia, Gunn and Fred. Angel would come after sunset, bringing Spike's favourite toy back with him.  
  
That's when Buffy knew there was trouble. It had to be another apocalypse if Spike was letting Angel ride his motorcycle. Never mind the fear and the terror on Spike's face. Sharing with his grandsire was not something Spike had been known for.  
  
"Can you tell me anything, Spike?" Buffy asked as he weaved in and out of the lanes of the always-congested highway.  
  
He lifted a hand and circled it near his head. "All jumbled. Don't know, Pet."  
  
Buffy placed a hand on his thigh and squeezed. "We can fix this, Spike. We'll win. Just try."  
  
"We'll win," Spike repeated, remembering Dru's words. He took a deep breath, cutting off a tractor-trailer, and veering into a clear lane. "Master Vampire that did a number on your arm, love. Not after us. Not you. For once."  
  
Buffy snorted, raising her injured arm from her chest. "Could have fooled me."  
  
"Would help him to have us out of his hair," Spike commented, running a hand through his own tousled locks. "S'not his plan though."  
  
"Vampire plans," Buffy sighed, shaking her head and smiling. Spike shot a half-hearted scowl at her and continued.  
  
"Don't know the details. Don't care. He wants Emma. And he needs Dawn."  
  
"The Key?" Buffy asked, the smile fading from her face.  
  
Spike nodded. "And even if I did approve of the sorry sot that thinks he deserves to marry my girl, he can't protect her. Not from a Master."  
  
Buffy nodded her agreement. "He'd die trying, though."  
  
"Then we'd have two dead on our hands," Spike shot back, gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles.  
  
There was a long silence before either of them spoke again. Spike weaved through traffic, finding every open spot on the highway, and making ones that hadn't been there when he changed lanes. Buffy watched the perfect blue of the Southern California sky and wondered how a place this beautiful could hide so much.  
  
Her quiet voice broke the silence. "Did you find out anything... about..."  
  
Spike turned his head to look at her. Really look at her. She was tired and in pain and afraid, and he'd forgotten how much she needed him. Strong and independent as she was, she was still just a young woman. One who was carrying a child, not knowing if it would live or die.  
  
And he, in his grief and ensuing anger and fear, hadn't found the words to tell her.  
  
Guilt struck him like a stake to the heart.  
  
"Love," Spike breathed, pulling her closer until her hip was flush with his. She dropped her head onto his shoulder, clutching him with her good hand. "There's a way. We can save her."  
  
Buffy breathed deeply, elated that there was going to be a way to save their child, but knowing, somewhere, there was a price to pay. "What do we have to do?"  
  
Spike trailed a hand over her cheek as he positioned the car to take the next exit. "Something I have to do. With Emma. But we'll be fine. She'll be fine."  
  
She shuddered, thinking about what the something could be. "I know you won't ever put Emma in a position that she won't come back from," Buffy began. "But please tell me I won't have to lose anyone in this. "  
  
Spike glanced down at her face before turning his attention back to the road. Her eyes were dewy and she looked so... tired. "No, Pet. Not leaving you. Never leaving you."  
  
"Promise?" Her voice was as quiet as a little girl's. "I mean, I know I'm the Slayer and I know I can survive, but I don't... I can't..."  
  
"Next year, love," Spike began, placing a kiss on the crown of her head, "You will have another perfect daughter. Her two sibs will be equal parts pain in the arse and our salvation, and I will walk the Nibblet down the aisle even if you have to push me."  
  
Finally, a smile, he thought, as Buffy settled in, curling her legs up on the seat next to him. "I trust you."  
  
With another kiss atop her head, he thanked whomever it was that was watching out for them.  
  
She trusted him to make this right.  
  
Dammit, he would keep his word.  
  
The house had become command central. Even Buffy and Spike had to be let through the wards, although they had no idea of this before the car was bounced back from the driveway by what was, effectively, an extremely strong, gelatinous wall. A hurried phone call inside, and a glowing hole appeared, big enough for the two of them, but not for the car.  
  
Street parking it was.  
  
Inside, the house was abuzz. Xander was moving furniture with Cyrus, squaring it against walls. Willow and Tara were taking inventory of magickal ingredients and poring over various and assorted protection spells. Takina was organizing medical supplies and Oz was playing world's furriest baby-sitter with the kids in the well-protected back yard.  
  
Beds had sprung out of nowhere. Cots and sleeping bags and couches covered in blankets. Walking into the kitchen, Spike finally saw one of the two people he needed most to see at that very moment.  
  
Dawn was unloading groceries from one of myriad paper sacks lining the counters. As she stretched up, putting away a box of chocolate pop tarts, Spike pounced her from behind, wrapping arms around her waist and tugging her fiercely close.  
  
"What's that for?" Dawn asked cheerfully, spinning around in the embrace and returning it.  
  
Spike studied her face, then surveyed her body for damage, then growled over at Brian, who watched the possessive display he'd seen a million times before with barely contained amusement. "You all right then, Nibblet?"  
  
"Other than getting blasted out of bed at like 7AM by my sister and threatened on pain of death to get over here, I'm fine," Dawn whined, smiling despite her words.  
  
"Nothing strange happened?" Spike asked, brushing her hair aside to check her neck.  
  
Dawn chuckled. "Uh, Hellmouth. Everything's strange. And this," she countered, pushing him back so she could look him in the eye, "qualifies as strange too."  
  
"I'll explain later," Buffy interjected, watching Spike's attention waver and begin to wander to the back door. He turned once more to Dawn.  
  
"Sure you're all right?"  
  
"Fine!" Dawn huffed, still frustrated. "I'm not a kid anymore."  
  
"Got a century plus on you, Nibs. Always be a kid," Spike retorted before turning and striding towards the back door in motions as disjointed as his over-burdened mind. Buffy shook her head and went about trying to fill in a few of the blanks.  
  
Spike wandered out into the sunlight, hearing the squeals and peals of laughter of thoroughly unscathed children. It was hard to imagine that anyone touched by this place could know such joy. Then again, all of them had found it here.  
  
There were a lot of them now. Children of the Scoobies. Children of the One. Emma. Will. River. Randy. Kali. Loki. At least one more to come, and Spike didn't think that it'd be long before the Harris brood began expanding, and, perish the thought, Dawn'd probably make a good mum.  
  
Two tow-headed children stopped as Spike reached the top step of the deck. Dual squeals of delight reached his ears and four small feet pounded over grass and up stairs to cling to his leg.  
  
"Daddy!!!!!!!!" Emma squeaked, her grip as tight as iron. Will rubbed his face against the denim and smiled, a picture of quiet peace.  
  
"Hey there, Mites," Spike said quietly, silently thanking the stars above for everything he'd been given. He dropped to a crouch, eye level with the two children still clinging to him, and pulled them both against him.  
  
Emma stopped, her character shifting in that eerie way that they'd become so used to. As if at the flick of a switch, she could go from child to timeless. "Are you all right, Daddy?"  
  
Spike felt the tears begin to fall, all of the loss and the fear coming out as he held the two kids fiercely tight. "Fine, Mite," he choked out, burying his face in his son's hair and feeling his daughter pepper his cheek in butterfly kisses.  
  
"It'll be okay, Daddy," Emma comforted as Will climbed into his lap and wrapped tiny arms around his neck, making the tears come faster. Harder.  
  
"We'll make the darkness go," Will whispered, snuggling in closer.  
  
Emma nodded, clinging to her father. "We will, Daddy. We win. We always win."  
  
To be contd. 


	32. The Brood

Hello, all!  
  
Okay, another installment on time!  
  
This is a bit of a segue chapter with a lot of exposition, but I tried to at least make it funny. Well, sort of. I thought you could use a break from the angst.  
  
I hope to be on time again next week. We shall see what the future holds. I could really use a crystal ball. :::grabs pink Magic 8-Ball handed to her by Bot:::: Looks good.  
  
Enjoy! And, as always, feedback fuels the muse....  
  
In Peace, Nimue "When you are sorrowful, look again in your heart and you shall see that in truth, you are weeping for that which has been your delight." Kahlil Gibran The Prophet  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: The Brood (Chapter Thirty-two - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: The Sunnydale and LA forces for good decide to join to kill two birds with one stone. Save Spike and Buffy's child, and take out the Master that threatens them all.  
  
The Brood  
  
By two hours after sundown, the entire entourage had arrived at Casa de Windsor. Despite their best efforts, there was no way to accommodate both sides of a strange, extended family in the one house, so Xander, living less than a block away from command central, offered his house to even the load. Willow set wards around the Harris residence as well, leaving Takina to man the invites. Being half demon herself, she was more likely to detect a glamour – someone pretending to be one of their own.  
  
On the return trip, Willow created an invisible trail between the back yards of the houses that would shield any movement between them. It'd just look like empty back yards, even if they drove a tank down the path. Xander had to give her credit. Since she taken back the reins of magick, she'd put it to some extremely clever uses in the name of the good fight.  
  
Inside, Buffy and Spike divided resources accordingly, Buffy doing more of the ordering as Spike's ability to articulate thought was still fairly raw – he was easily distracted and drawn back into despair. But he told her what he thought, and held the two kids like lifelines as she divvied up the people and supplies.  
  
The Witches and the Werewolf were to stay with Buffy and Spike, both as protection and to retrieve Anya from the Red Mansion, for which they'd need Dawn. Spike had made it clear that he wasn't letting the girl out of his sight until the new Master was dealt with, so Dawn and her beau were assigned Emma's room. Spike had tried to make him sleep downstairs, but Buffy had quietly talked him out of it, letting her little sister and her fiancé be together.  
  
Emma was staying with Spike and Buffy. There were no arguments, no discussions. She'd sleep between them, she'd shadow one or both of them in the house, and she'd never be out of eyeshot. Cyrus offered to sleep on the couch in order to help watch his charge, to which the One agreed.  
  
Giles would lead the others at Xander's house with Wesley, Gunn, Fred and three of the children – Will, Randy and River. As much as Spike and Buffy both hated to part with him at a time like this, he was safer there. Spike and Emma had to go to the place where souls slept. The Master was after Dawn and Emma. Spike and Buffy were the One. All of the negative forces would be drawn to command central and Will was simply safer with Xander and his family.  
  
Besides, Spike thought, it was likely that Rupert would rip the head off of anything or anyone who came within a hundred meters of the kids. And they'd immediately taken a liking to Fred, who was watching them like a tiny, fierce, hawk.  
  
All of this left Angel and his girl.  
  
As much as Spike didn't want to admit it, they needed Angel with them. The great poof may or may not help his grandchilde willingly, although after the recent loss of Drusilla, Spike was inclined to think Angel felt a debt to him, but he would help Buffy. Angel wouldn't allow anyone to harm Buffy, her sister, or her daughter, particularly by another Master. Spike knew that he had a journey to make with Emma, but, if the past was any indication, their corporeal bodies would remain, still and helpless, on this plane.  
  
Spike didn't much care if Angel watched over him. Injured or not, he knew that Buffy would have his back. With himself, he was willing to take the chance that her injury wasn't a liability, but with their daughter...  
  
To be honest, Spike thought, it didn't have damn all to do with her destiny, or universal peace, or any such. No.One.Was.Hurting.His.Girls. Simple as that. And if he had to rely on his grandsire to make sure that was the case, then pride be damned.  
  
The plan was for Xander, Oz, Gunn, Wesley, and Cordelia to patrol and see if they could find a location on the Master by roughing up some fledges. Spike and Angel were going to throw their own weight around, as Masters, to see if they could find anything out from the demon population. The rest were staying to keep an eye on the kids. As much as Buffy didn't like the plan, she stuck to it, mostly because Spike didn't want to leave Emma without one of them, and he was more likely to get information from Vampires than was the Slayer.  
  
Once the sun rose, and they'd gotten a little sleep, Spike would let Emma take him to the land where the souls slept to see what they could do. And how much more they would lose in the process.  
  
Life is loss.  
  
"Man, they're everywhere," Gunn noted calmly, dusting another fledgling that not only didn't know the Master, but that barely knew his own name. "Always like this around here?"  
  
"Hellmouth," Xander stated flatly, holding a crossbow over another fledgling that Cordelia was questioning relentlessly. "They sort of flock here. Do Vampires flock?"  
  
"I think they're more of a gaggle," Oz answered, sidestepping another fledge as it flew past him, reeling from a kick Wesley had delivered.  
  
The small group of undead had been done away with, obviously having nothing to do with the new player in town, and the living reassembled, dusting off their clothes and returning to their route.  
  
"Ugh. I so don't miss this," Cordelia whined, a spot of some sort of ichor spreading on her top.  
  
"Oh, you know you do," Xander teased back, slinging an axe over his shoulder. "Actually, it's been pretty quiet for years. Not too many of the big guys want to go up against the whole One gig."  
  
Oz nodded his agreement. "Mostly, we get these guys. There's more out there, but unless they're hurting someone..."  
  
"I noticed that you're down with the demon tolerance," Gunn continued. "Is it like a trial to get into your group, man? Have to date a demon?"  
  
"Or be supernatural," Oz answered, grinning.  
  
"I believe it just... worked out that way, Charles," Wesley interjected, strolling next to the group but not quite in the tight circle. "It certainly speaks to the state of civilization that so many factions of the demon population can integrate with..."  
  
"Yeah, we know, demons can be sexy," Cordy chimed in. "And furry," she continued, shooting a pointed glance at Oz before breaking into a grin. "Can you give us the non-Watcher speak version of what the Hell is going on around here?"  
  
"This week?" Xander asked, chuckling.  
  
"How bout the abridged version of the whole thing?" Gunn asked.  
  
Xander and Oz exchanged a glance before Oz nodded his consent to the always- babble-ready Harris to continue. "Okay, well. Buffy dies. Buffy gets brought back. Apparently, Buffy is sad and no one really notices but Spike. Buffy and Spike end up in this sex-o-rama that wasn't supposed to mean anything and that no one knew about but apparently did mean something and we all found out.  
  
How, you ask? Buffy gets in a battle with some demon that makes her skip realities but it wasn't realities so much as it was forward and back in time. Turns out, she has a baby. Spike's baby.  
  
Which, of course, no one understands until we find out she's really pregnant. And it's really Spike's. What with the whole Vampire-dead seed thing, I guess no one thought much about birth control.  
  
Anyway, he's strangely happy. She's strangely happy. They end up together. But nothing is easy. Willow goes all black magick and Spike dies to stop her."  
  
"Spike died?" Gunn asked.  
  
Xander and Oz nodded. "Yeah," the dark haired boy continued. "Kinda when he got it through all of our heads that he was okay. He died saving all of us, including Willow. Buffy was pregnant and he was suddenly gone.  
  
Of course, Buffy sort of never got the whole death thing down, so she went and yanked him out of this hell dimension when she was like, ready to pop, with the help of their unborn child, who, apparently, is some ancient embodiment of Peace and is destined for hugeness in the good guys department."  
  
"Emma," Wesley confirmed.  
  
Xander nodded again. "They make it back, but Spike has a bunch of cool new modifications. Like sunlight and breathing and heartbeat, but he's still a Vamp. Can't do much to play with it because Buffy goes into labour and almost dies, but doesn't, and the world met Emma. The first child of the Scoobies and what everyone thought was the only kid that could come out of the whole Vampire/Slayer combo.  
  
But no, they're too horny for that.  
  
Oh, and then the whole One thing came up. Some prophesy. Vampire moving toward light. Slayer that wasn't quite what she was supposed to be. Wham bam, the Powers were watching Angel and Spike snuck right in and surprised them."  
  
"Pissed Angel off too," Cordelia mentioned. "Although the Shanshu gig is still up for grabs."  
  
Xander snorted. "Weird Vampires. Anyway. There was some more ooky exchanges of bodily fluids and Buffy and Spike were eternally bonded and got like double the super powers and some weird life span bonuses. Oh, and a kid that's not only cool, but she can totally heal someone who got hurt helping her. That's come in handy on several near death experiences."  
  
He stopped, taking a breath and watching Wesley casually dust a fledge without breaking his stride. Watcher Junior had changed. A lot.  
  
"So, Buffy gets knocked up again. More strange happenings. People trying to kill her including the one we're sort of up against now. Not the Master guy but the one trying to hurt her baby. He's come back a few times. Like Spike's dad once and then Riley the soldier boy. Jackass. But we always win.  
  
Buffy has Will and the rest of us are getting into the game as well. Takina and I got together and my little girl came in not long after Will. Anya and Giles, weird as that is," a little headshake to punctuate, "and out comes Randy. And then, of course, the brood."  
  
Oz nodded languidly. "Yeah, my little pack."  
  
"How'd that come about?" Gunn asked, giving Oz a sly smile.  
  
"I'll never tell."  
  
"But he got them the good old fashioned way," Cordelia surmised. "Lucky furry guy."  
  
Oz gave a wolfish grin, but kept silent.  
  
"Which brings us to now," Xander completed, "of course, skipping over a lot that's happened in the last seven or eight years. Buffy's pregnant and that's never easy. Ever seen a Slayer with bad hormones? And cravings?"  
  
Cordelia shuddered. "Poor Spike."  
  
"And, I'm sure one of the rest of us will get off our asses and make a few more for our army in training," Xander joked. "At least they're better prepared to handle the Hellmouth then we were."  
  
To that, all three who had grown up there nodded. "Ever think about moving?" Gunn asked quite honestly as they rounded out of the last cemetery of the night.  
  
"All the time," Xander conceded. "But this is where Buffy is supposed to be. We've been in it together for half our lives. We won't leave her now. Besides, it's our home. Someone's got to protect it."  
  
"Wanna talk?" Angel asked, striding next to Spike along the sidewalk towards Willie's and the dock.  
  
"No," Spike answered pointedly.  
  
Angel nodded. "I can understand that."  
  
There was silence.  
  
"Just not... don't want to," Spike continued, petulantly. It wasn't so much that he was afraid he might rip Angel's head off for not stepping up and handling the situation he created, but because he wasn't there yet. Wasn't to the anger. And he didn't want to start up the waterworks again.  
  
Not in front of Angel.  
  
Not when he had so much to do.  
  
"Can I say something?" Angel asked, still walking slowly, trying to keep things calm and simple.  
  
"No," Spike answered once again. A short, trite response.  
  
"Going to anyway," Angel intervened, watching Spike roll his eyes. He'd let alone the subject of Drusilla until Spike had some time to grieve. And he'd start training for the ass-kicking his now-much-stronger-grandchilde would likely dole out. But there was something else that needed to be said.  
  
"I won't let you down. Not this time," the dark haired Vampire said quietly.  
  
Spike spun, grabbing Angel by the throat and pushing him against the wall with strength that Angel hadn't imagined. "Don't bloody well care what you do for me. I was never on your top ten list of important playthings, souled or unsouled, but I promise you, if anything happens to Buffy, or Dawn, or Emma, or any of my people when I can't be there to prevent it, I will hunt you down. And white hat or not, I'll feed you to the Vengeance demon and then vacuum you up with the rubbish."  
  
Fear shot through Angel as he was held fast against the wall. Spike meant it. More than that, Spike could do it. Now. With the people who he'd come to love behind him, and who loved him just as much. A small smile broke on Angel's face.  
  
"I won't let you down," he choked out. "Not just for Buffy, but for you."  
  
Spike dropped his grandsire unceremoniously to the ground, wiping his hands on his jeans as if he'd contracted some gel-induced skin condition from touching the great poof. Angel just rolled his eyes.  
  
They were silent again for a long moment, only the sound of their boots clacking against the pavement breaking the monotony.  
  
"You know, Spike, reformed or not, you truly are the Master of Sunnydale now," Angel commented as they passed under street lamps.  
  
As much as Spike didn't want to gratify Angel with any response at the moment, his interest was piqued. "Not really much of a Vampire, anymore."  
  
"But you are," Angel continued. "You're still a Vampire, just one who made some choices. Good ones, in my opinion. But you have your own childer now. Your own minions."  
  
Spike snorted. "Tell them that and the whelp's likely to do the aforementioned for me."  
  
"I didn't mean it in a derogatory sense, Spike," Angel corrected. "You're their leader. Well, you and Buffy. Maybe more Buffy...."  
  
A chuckle Spike couldn't hold back. "Leads me round like a pet poodle."  
  
"I would have at least given you a Lab or something. What's an annoyingly tenacious English dog?" Angel chided in return.  
  
An eye roll from Spike. "We got a job to do, is all. They do their part. I do mine. Buffy and I... well, we know what it is we're round for." Angel smiled. "But you had a choice not to. You chose to stay and help. You choose to join with Buffy. You choice to take the destiny you were offered. And you chose to lead them well. You're what a Master should be."  
  
Spike thought for a moment, not wanting to admit that he was actually kind of touched by the words. Angel had never given Spike any credit for doing anything right – not that he had for most of his unlife. But hearing it now, somewhere, meant something.  
  
Of course Spike couldn't let the great gelled one in on that little tidbit.  
  
"You done being a walking Hallmark, or should I ready the insulin?" Spike asked, swinging open the door to Willie's and standing side by side in the doorway with his grandsire.  
  
"You want Willie, or to start with the patrons?" Angel asked, sizing up the room full of shaking and scattering demons, most of which the two Vampires wanted nothing to do with.  
  
"Think the barkeep has a soft spot for you, Peaches. I got the crowd," Spike commented before diving into the madness.  
  
Angel smiled and headed to the bar.  
  
To be contd. 


	33. Claritin for the Soul

Hey there!  
  
WAHOO! Another chapter on time. I may be breaking a record or something!  
  
Hopefully, I'll be able to do the same next week.  
  
No angst in this installment, but the action is starting again and the crunch is on, folks. Will Spike find out who the new Master is before the Master takes Emma and Dawn? Will Angel help him? Will Spike turn Angel into gelatinous hamburger meat? Will Buffy be able to stop them?  
  
All this and more in the next chapter of Vamps of Our Lives.  
  
Oh, wrong story.  
  
Well, enjoy this one!  
  
Cheery Vibes Nimue "We're not nerds. We're... passionate hobbyists." - Tom Lenk  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Claritin for the Soul (Chapter Thirty-three - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Willow, Tara and Dawn retrieve Anya from La Maison Rouge. Spike and Angel corner Willie for information on the Master and meet a new face they'd like to bash in. Buffy gets a message from Anya and the time crunch begins.  
  
Claritin for the Soul  
  
Willow, Tara and Dawn stood in a circle, candles flickering all around them. The basement was where they'd sent her from, and it was to the basement that she'd return. Not that the Windsor's cellar was anything mystically special – well any more so than any other place where the One and the Peacemaker spent their time. But it was always easier to reopen a portal where one created it. And the basement had been convenient at the time.  
  
Willow chanted softly as Tara removed her athame from its place tucked inside of her belt. Dawn stood quietly, nowhere near as nervous as she had been the first time any of them had used the Key to open a door to another dimension. Being bled was becoming old hat.  
  
A quick, tiny prick and Tara squeezed Dawn's finger. Three drops of blood in the center of the circle and a red pinpoint of light sparkled chest high. With a swirling, dizzying motion, it grew. Enlarged. Shimmered and shimmied its way into existence until a hole opened, obscuring Willow from view and leading into what appeared to be nothing more than a vast sea of red.  
  
Whipping wind blew the women's hair back, and an oppressive heat filled the room. Note to self, Dawn thought, don't purposely open holes to hell dimensions as they'll dry out your skin. As the random thought flitted across her mind, a shimmery figure appeared in the distant red sea. Like the hole, it grew and became fluid and solid again.  
  
With a pop, a windblown and haggard Anya appeared through the portal.  
  
With a command spoken from Willow, the door snapped closed.  
  
Anya flopped to the floor, panting, her hair sticking out in every direction, her white dress, which wasn't what she'd been wearing when she left, was dirty and torn. In once piece, but the demon looked the worse for wear.  
  
Dawn ran to the mini fridge, grabbing a soda before Anya finally rose to speak.  
  
"Not that," the demon panted.  
  
Dawn quirked a brow, reaching into the cool air of the fridge. "No drink?"  
  
"Gimme something of Spike's," Anya answered, wearily, flopping back until she laid flat on the floor.  
  
Dawn snickered, grabbing a beer bottle and opening it on her way back to the travel-worn Scooby. "You okay?"  
  
Anya nodded, sitting up and taking the offered brew with a contented sigh. "Yeah, whatever."  
  
"What did you find out?" Willow babbled excitedly, sitting on the floor across from Anya. Tara and Dawn dropped down as well.  
  
"Good to see you too," Anya snarked. "First things first, how's Randy?"  
  
"He's fine," Tara answered, smiling softly. "At Xander's."  
  
Anya chuckled. "Monkey boy's taking care of the kids?"  
  
"Everyone but Emma," Willow answered, rolling her eyes. "They're all there."  
  
"Rupert?" The demon asked, smiling at his name.  
  
"Him too," Tara answered. "Just us here. And Buffy and Emma. Spike'll be back soon. He's after the Master. And Angel and Cordelia are staying down here..."  
  
"Whoa!" Anya exclaimed. "What Master? Who? And Angel? Spike hasn't killed him yet?"  
  
"Not yet," Willow sighed. "Needed the help."  
  
Anya drained the bottle and let it tumble to the floor. Suddenly, she sat bolt upright and looked frantically around the room. "What time is it?"  
  
Catching on to Anya's nervousness, the other women tensed. "Um, bout... 2 AM," Dawn answered, squinting against the darkness to look at her watch.  
  
"Spike needs to go to the sleeping souls!" Anya babbled, hopping to her feet. "Luke and..."  
  
"He knows," Dawn answered, standing up slowly. "I think he and Emma were going to go in the morning..."  
  
"No!" Anya exclaimed. "Now! I mean, Luke and Gwydion are turning on their mark at sunrise."  
  
"Turning on their mark?" Willow asked, joining the others, standing inside the circle.  
  
"They still have a mark on the soul that's meant for Buffy's baby. At three months, they can activate the mark and once that's done, free will is gone from the soul. And for the baby to be born and not fulfill the prophesy, the soul has to choose to not inhabit the body of its own volition." Anya answered, as if the story should make as much sense as a grocery list. She turned, bolting to the steps.  
  
"We need to find Spike!" The demon continued, rushing up the staircase.  
  
"Find Buffy!" Dawn called up behind her.  
  
"Well then. Looky, looky," Spike purred, manhandling a young minion into the cage at the back of Willie's bar. "Thanks for the tip," he snarked at the barkeep, who Angel still had held against the wall, a strong hand wrapped around the throat of the struggling owner.  
  
"I gave you what you wanted," Willie panted. "Let me go."  
  
"Not done," Angel replied simply. "As always, I'm thinking you know more than you're letting on."  
  
"I don't! I swear!" Willie answered, flailing under Angel's grip. "This bigwig came to town. Brought his own people with him. Didn't bother turning any of the town folk. "  
  
"What's he after?" Spike asked, locking the cage and coming over to where Angel held Willie firmly to the wall.  
  
"I don't know. I just serve the drinks!"  
  
"Wrong!" Angel snapped, calmly, slamming Willie into the wall again.  
  
"All right! All right!" Willie whimpered. "He's after the Key and Spike's kid."  
  
"Knew that, wanker," Spike snapped. "Tell me something more ... relevant."  
  
Willie's eyes swam as he searched for something, anything, which could possibly make the Vampires let him go. "Um... he said the Hellmouth was the only place to do some ritual... I don't know... something about opening specific gates to three different hell dimensions... And that there wasn't a Master here so it was free territory."  
  
Spike tensed, but said nothing. Angel slammed the barkeep against the wall once more. "There is a Master here. At the moment, there are two. But this is Spike's town. A protected Childe of the Order of Aurelius. "  
  
Willie nodded furiously. "Everyone knows Spike and Buffy own this place," he conceded. "This guy just has a death wish. Or thinks he can beat them."  
  
Angel dropped the barkeep to the floor. "If you see him, Willie, you let him know that there'll be no mercy for encroaching on another Master's territory."  
  
Again, Willie nodded, rubbing his neck. "That... that guy'll know more. He's the only minion that gets to go out on his own and do stuff," he babbled, pointing at the silent, caged Vampire. "I think he's a... not a minion, but..."  
  
"Childer?" Angel asked, approaching the cage, sniffing the air.  
  
"I don't know what you kids call it nowadays," Willie whined, backing towards the door. "But he knows stuff."  
  
"You a tot of the new Master?" Spike asked, ignoring the escaping barkeep as he joined his Sire at the bars of the cage. "Could be good, Angel. If he's truly a Childe, the Master might come after him. Either to rescue or..."  
  
"To kill the kid for getting caught," Angel commented, shooting a half smile at Spike. Spike smirked in response. "Who's your daddy?" He asked the caged Vamp.  
  
Spike barked a laugh. "Not like you to be so forward," he snarked, watching the younger Vampire in the cage pace. "What about the happiness clause?"  
  
Angel's turn to smirk. "Who is your Master, Childe?" The younger Vampire turned sullen, yellow eyes on the pair on the other side of the bars. "I will not betray my Master."  
  
"But you are Childer?" Angel asked, sniffing the air once more. "Young, at that."  
  
The Vampire nodded. "The youngest of the line."  
  
"The baby," Spike teased, smiling. "Daddy's going to give you a whipping."  
  
"He might like that," Angel commented. "So, who is your Master?"  
  
"I will not betray," the youngster repeated, slipping into game face and rushing the bars.  
  
"Feisty," Spike joked, backing up a step. "Think we can get it out of him?"  
  
Angel fished out the key to the cage, pilfered from Willie before that interrogation began, and unlocked the doors. "I think we can get him singing show tunes from his nose in less than ten minutes."  
  
With that, Angel and Spike shifted to game face and entered the cage.  
  
"You want me to send a little ball-'o-light message, Buffy?" Willow asked excitedly, as Buffy heard the abridged version of Anya's tale. Emma slept quietly on the couch behind them, her head cradled in the crook of Cyrus's arm.  
  
Buffy looked at them for a moment, calmly taking inventory of the situation. They'd been in tighter spots. "I think I can handle it."  
  
"Oh no you don't," Cordelia commented, entering the dining room from the back door, still covered in dust and ooze. "Spike'll kill me if you leave." She paused for a moment. "Well, no. He'll kill Angel, but still, I'd rather put that off as long as possible."  
  
Buffy sighed, smiling slightly at the ooze-covered Cordelia. So much the same and so very different. That seemed to be the way. "I don't need to go anywhere," the Slayer finally commented.  
  
"Oh!" Dawn exclaimed. "Does that mental telepathy thingy work that far away?"  
  
"Mental telepathy?" Cordy asked, wiping her face with a dishtowel.  
  
"Mental something," Dawn mumbled, earning a swat from her sister.  
  
"I can usually get a message across," Buffy answered, plopping down in a dining room chair. "Just give me... ten minutes. If he's not back in twenty, then send the light ball."  
  
"What do you want us to do?" Willow asked, still bouncing excitedly, the time constraint boggling her overly-organized mind.  
  
"You," Buffy began, pointing at Cordelia, "Go take a shower. You're dripping demon goo. There's a hamper in the hall closet that substitutes as a toxic waste bin. Hazard of the job."  
  
"And suffer your cheap shampoo," Cordelia snarked, heading for the stairs.  
  
"You," Buffy continued, nodding at Anya, "go keep Giles insane. Or sane. Or whatever it is that will keep him protecting Will and the kids. Willow made a magically secret path through the back."  
  
"It's lighted by little pink fireflies no one else can see," Willow chirped, rocking forward and back. "Safe as houses."  
  
"How quaint," Anya commented, heading towards the back door and grabbing another beer on her way.  
  
"Dawn, you just... stay where Willow and Tara can see you. Who knows what kind of mystical energy you opening a portal created. You guys, all just stay and make sure nothing happens to Emma," Buffy continued, standing up.  
  
"Where are you going?" Dawn asked, as Buffy strode to the back door.  
  
"Don't get all worked up. I'm staying in the protected zone. I just need... it works best if I go somewhere where I... where we relate." She opened the door quietly and slipped out.  
  
The back stairs had been a place of solitude for them both for years. The place where they'd first found a truce. The place where they'd always found solace. Who knew why, but Buffy knew that, short of their bed, it was the place they always connected the most.  
  
Not to mention, it was quiet. By now, Cordy was singing showstoppers in the master bath.  
  
With a huff, Buffy sat down on the top stair and closed her eyes. Breathe. In. Out. In. Out. Find the thread. Find Spike.  
  
"Need you here," she whispered inside of her head. "Hurry. Important. Need you here. Come home." Over and over, she repeated the words to herself, trying to express it with urgency, but without panicking her Vampire into doing something stupid.  
  
Spike wasn't always the most rational Vampire in panic-inducing situations.  
  
"Come home. Hurry. Come home."  
  
Another wallop and the young Childe of the new Master flew back into the wall with a thump and a needless exhalation of breath.  
  
"Nice shot, Spike," Angel commented, asking the questions as Spike coerced the answers from the wily, aggressive little minion.  
  
"Don't worry, Peaches," Spike panted, fending off a right hook and downing the Childe with a flourish, "got a few more to show you when the time's right."  
  
"Don't doubt that," Angel commented, watching Spike hold the minion down with his boot heel to the youngster's throat.  
  
"You," the minion choked out, "you let your Childer talk to you in that way?"  
  
Spike barked another laugh. "He's not the boss of me..."  
  
Angel rolled his eyes. "We're not talking about my... situation. We're talking bout your lousy excuse for a Master. Let his youngest out to roam the town. You're barely a decade old!"  
  
"Eighteen!" The Vampire shouted back, gasping as Spike pushed harder on his throat.  
  
"Oh, eighteen. That makes you high and mighty," Spike snarked, letting the Childe up. It was more fun to fight than to just hold him still. "And you were what, twenty, when you were turned?"  
  
"Twenty-two," the minion responded, rushing Spike again and being tossed back like a rag doll.  
  
"He's not very good at this," Spike commented to Angel as the younger Vamp slid down the wall with another thump.  
  
"Youngest. He was protected," Angel answered for him.  
  
A chuckle from Spike. "Funny. Never worked that way for us."  
  
"We're not talking about us," Angel answered, annoyed. "Now," he began again, walking to the minion. "Tell us about dear old dad."  
  
"No," the youngster answered.  
  
"No?" Angel questioned, slipping a vial of holy water from his coat pocket and tossing it to Spike. "You know, Spike here is... well, he's not got the nasty allergies of most Vampires anymore."  
  
"Claritin for the soul," Spike agreed. "No aversion to this stuff." He opened the vial and let a drop fall onto his finger. Nothing happened. Nifty, Spike thought. Hadn't tried that.  
  
Wait, did Angel know that?  
  
The youngest cowered just a little as Spike dropped that line of thought for the moment and strode towards him.  
  
"So, he could, I don't know, hold a cross against you and make you drink a keg of that stuff," Angel continued, walking to the other side of the boy. "Or, I could beat you into oblivion. Your choice."  
  
Spike stopped dead, mid-stride, raising his hand to his head as if he'd come down with a sudden migraine. Did he even get migraines, Angel thought?  
  
'Come home. Im...hurry...home...come....' A whisper in Spike's brain. Almost inaudible, but he felt it more than heard it.  
  
Buffy needed him.  
  
"Looks like you're going to have to beat him to a bloody pulp, Peaches," Spike snapped, tossing the vial of holy water onto a pile of boxes.  
  
"What is it?" Angel asked. "You all right?"  
  
"S'Buffy," Spike answered, still rubbing his temple and hearing her voice inside of his head. "Needs me there."  
  
Angel nodded, not sure how Spike knew, or what the mechanism was that bound him to the Slayer. But he didn't doubt that Spike was telling him the truth. The blond wouldn't pass up a good spot of righteous violence for nothing. "Go. I can handle this one."  
  
"Don't," Spike commanded, "go after his boss without me. Or at least without backup. Just..." He looked at Angel for a moment, "Buffy would never forgive me."  
  
Again, Angel nodded, smirking. "Didn't know you cared."  
  
"Don't get out the Hallmark card, Peaches. Still hate you," Spike shouted as he slipped from the cage and ran for the door.  
  
To be contd. 


	34. Someone to Watch Over Me

Hello, All,  
  
Try not to faint. I managed to get another one out on time, even with company all weekend. Go me! :::does happy dance:::  
  
The action has started anew and the angst is sure to pick up soon. But we'll get there soon enough.  
  
Enjoy, and remember, feedback fuels the Muse.  
  
Cheery Vibes Nimue "We're not nerds. We're... passionate hobbyists." - Tom Lenk  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Someone to Watch Over Me(Chapter Thirty-four - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike makes it back to find his trip to the unknown has been pushed up a tick. Buffy's impatience comes to a head. Cordelia goes on a rescue mission  
  
Someone to Watch Over Me  
  
Spike hopped up the front steps of the house in one long stride, banging open the door without slowing.  
  
Buffy was here. Buffy needed him.  
  
Even before all this, he'd been at the mercy of that particular siren song.  
  
Knowing that Spike would be in no mood to wait for the wards to drop, Willow had sent out a little magic ball of sight (a variation on her light ball), to track his progress. When he reached the corner of Revello, she had dropped the wards and unlocked the door.  
  
With a snap of her fingers, they shot back into place.  
  
"Where is she?" Spike asked the redhead as he strode into the living room. "If anything's happened to her..."  
  
"She's okay, Spike," Willow answered, always a little nervous when the Vampire got into one of his uber-protective modes. All of them knew he'd never hurt a one of them, but it didn't stop the little hairs on the backs of their necks from standing on end when he was in a mood.  
  
"S'not. She called..."Spike snapped, continuing his mad pacing into the kitchen.  
  
A small, soft hand touched the small of his back and he stopped dead, instantly calming. One of his. He could sense it long before he saw her.  
  
"She's upstairs daddy," Emma said quietly as he turned to face her. "Waiting for us."  
  
Spike dropped down to a crouch and looked the child in the eye. "What're you doing up, Mite? S'late and we've a lot of work to do tomorrow."  
  
Emma smiled softly. "We have to do it now instead," the girl answered simply. "Aunt Anya came back and the bad men are going to do something to mum's baby if we don't go now. " The child sensed the sudden panic in her father and wrapped her arms around Spike's neck. "We'll win. We just have to go sooner."  
  
Spike nodded, standing and lifting the girl with him, allowing her to wrap herself around him like a child instead of an ancient prophesy. "Better go find her then, Mite."  
  
As he walked through the doorway, a nagging thought entered his overworked brain. Much as he and his grandsire didn't see eye to eye, Angel was proud, and indebted. It was likely he'd do something positively chuckleheaded in order to even that debt.  
  
"Red?" Spike asked, stopping. "Angel's bird still around?"  
  
"She should be in Will's room, settling in," Willow answered, furrowing her brow.  
  
"Tell her to unsettle. Grab Watcher, Jr., the big muscly bloke and one of ours. Harris. Angel's got one of the Master's Childer with him and he's not stopping till he finds the git. Don't want to live with the wrath of the prom queen if he goes it alone and comes back in an ashtray."  
  
Willow nodded, smiling softly. A barb about Spike giving a damn bounced on the tip of her tongue, but she swallowed it and replaced it with a grin. "I'll tell her. Where are they?"  
  
"Left before Angel got a location. He's at Willie's with the Childe. You stay here though. Need you to keep the wards on this place while Emma and me..." Spike continued.  
  
Willow nodded her response. "Good luck."  
  
With a quick bounce of his head, Spike wrapped his arms tighter around his daughter and headed for the stairs.  
  
Buffy paced around the bedroom, twisting her long hair between nervous fingers. Tugging on the strands. Biting her lip.  
  
Maybe he didn't hear. Maybe Willow should find him. Something. We have to do something.  
  
Her hand fell to her belly and pressed tight. This was it, she felt. The last chance. Not that they could really handle any more. They may be superheroes, but they weren't clinically insane. Most of the time.  
  
But this baby... they'd wanted her so much.  
  
Maybe Willow should find him.  
  
With determined strides, Buffy made her way to the bedroom door just as it swung open. Spike stopped, looking at her panicked face, raising one hand to her cheek. "S'alright, Pet. "  
  
Tears began to fall down her cheeks. "We're running out of time."  
  
"We'll make it," Spike answered, sparing a glance out of the window. Noticing the moon sinking toward the horizon. "Got a bit of time yet."  
  
Buffy nodded. "How?"  
  
"Mite'll have to show us," Spike answered, feeling Emma shift and lift her head from his shoulder.  
  
"I know the way," the little girl whispered warily. "But daddy and I have to go alone."  
  
Buffy's eyes opened wide. "Not both of us? Why, Emma? I need to... I need..." Her words trailed off in desperation and despair.  
  
Emma turned her head to look softly at her mum. "You won't be able to make the choice," the girl answered firmly, yet sweetly. "You won't be able to say goodbye."  
  
"Goodbye?" Buffy asked. "I don't want to lose..."  
  
"There will be loss," Emma answered, a frown marring her pretty, young face. "There will be more. There is always a loss."  
  
Spike closed his eyes, allowing himself to think of Dru. About loss. About love. About things that are gone for good.  
  
"I can handle that," Buffy commented, unconvincingly.  
  
Emma smiled, leaning over to kiss her mother's cheek. "You can, mum. But you shouldn't. Daddy will have to go."  
  
Buffy looked at Spike, part of her angry that she was again being pushed away from the battle. Part of her wondering if Spike could handle any more loss at all at the moment. All of her wanting to be with them, even through hell.  
  
But Spike nodded his agreement with his daughter. "Love, s'best we listen to the tot, all right? Not a lot of time left and this is her arena. We don't know what'll be there. "  
  
Buffy opened her mouth in protest, but shut it again when Spike closed his eyes and began to speak. "Don't want to take any more chances, Pet. Not with you. Can't lose you."  
  
"You can stay with us, mum," Emma whispered, pointing toward the bed. "Make sure the bad men don't come to take this part while we're gone." The girl poked her skin and her father's cheek. "So we can come home."  
  
With a sigh, Buffy agreed, walking over to the bed with her husband and child. "Nothing will happen to you while you're gone, baby," Buffy whispered, kissing the top of the girl's head as she lay down in the middle of the bed. "I'll make sure."  
  
Emma nodded, settling her head onto the pillows and watching her parents. Spike leaned over, pressing his lips softly to Buffy's. "I'll watch out for her, Pet."  
  
Buffy nodded, eyes filling again. "And I'll watch over you."  
  
He smiled, caressing her cheek with his palm, his thumb tracing her cheekbone. "I know you will, Love."  
  
"Make it okay?" Buffy pleaded, her hand pressing to her belly, her eyes growing wet again. "Please."  
  
Spike leaned down and kissed her hand, then rose again, pressing his lips to hers. "Won't lose a one of you, all right? I promise. Won't let them take what's ours."  
  
Buffy nodded, knowing Spike didn't make promises lightly. "Better go."  
  
Another kiss and Spike stretched back onto the bed, taking his daughter's hand. The little girl nestled into her father, resting her head on the crook of his shoulder and reaching out for her mother. Buffy stretched out on the opposite side, raising her broken arm above her on the pillow and stretching her good one over them both. "I'll keep watch."  
  
Emma smiled, her eyes drifting closed. Spike took one last, long look at her, and his blue eyes disappeared into darkness.  
  
A soft knock on the door roused Cordelia from her moisturizing ritual. "What?" She whined, shifting in her satin boy-shorts and swinging her head to the door.  
  
Willow gathered her courage and entered. "Hey, Cordy."  
  
"Hi," Cordelia answered, returning to her nightly ritual. "What's up?"  
  
"Um... Spike's back and..."  
  
"Did Angel come with him?" The dark haired beauty asked, stopping everything and facing the little witch.  
  
Willow shook her head. "He came back alone. He's with Emma now going to the soul place..."  
  
"Where's Angel?" Cordy asked, sensing something about to go horribly wrong.  
  
"Spike told me to get you and tell you that he was at Willie's. They caught one of the Master's ... children?"  
  
"Childer," Cordelia corrected, finding jeans in her oversized suitcase. "Sorry, been around Vampires too long."  
  
Willow smiled softly, watching the girl rummage, her hands working a mile a minute. "Spike wanted me to tell you that he's likely to do something really dumb if..."  
  
"Yeah, this is Angel. Hero with no brain," Cordy chided, throwing on a low v-neck t-shirt and grabbing some stakes from the front pocket of the suitcase.  
  
A chuckle from Willow. "This Master guy is a new breed, from all accounts. Not what we're used to. And Angel was pretty ticked that another Master..."  
  
"Came into Spike's territory, yada yada, insult to the Order, yada yada. Got it. Anyone else available?"  
  
"Spike said to..." Willow began again.  
  
"Do you all listen to Spike?" Cordy snapped, heading towards the door, Willow racing after her.  
  
"Well, except Buffy. He's usually right. Scary as that thought is," the redhead answered, still chasing Cordelia down the corridor.  
  
A flash of light burst from beneath the door of Buffy's room and Cordy stopped, slamming back against the wall and out of the way. Once the pulse faded, Cordelia looked back at Willow with stunned eyes. "Spike came back to have sex? Is it always a light show?"  
  
Willow rolled her eyes. "I'm betting that was the portal to the land of souls opening. Which means we should probably stay away and that Spike, Buffy and Emma are out of the picture for the rest of the night."  
  
"Got it," Cordy said, still slack-jawed at the faint glow coming from under the door. "Never knew having prophetic kids was such a... Fourth of July parade."  
  
"Fun never stops," Willow shot back.  
  
Cordy bounded towards the staircase again. "Who do we have available?"  
  
"I called over to Xander's. Wesley, Charles and Xander should be here any minute," Willow answered, going through her mental checklist.  
  
"Magical. Need the magick," Cordelia continued. "Wes's good, but we need power. He's more of... a finesse kinda guy."  
  
"I've got to stay here," Willow countered. "I promised Spike that..."  
  
An eye roll from the dark haired girl. "Spike this, Spike that..."  
  
"He saved our lives, Cordelia," Willow snapped, interrupting the girl. "I promised to make sure nothing happened to the people in the house while he and Buffy were gone."  
  
Cordelia stopped and looked at the redhead for a long moment before delivering a brief nod. "I get that."  
  
"Anya has a lot of power, although it's raw," Willow said after a moment.  
  
"She looked like she'd been to hell and back," Cordy answered, gathering some more supplies into a bag. "Maybe because she had."  
  
"She'd go," the Witch answered quietly. "She always does."  
  
Cordelia shook her head. "As totally squicky as this sounds, she deserves some downtime with Giles."  
  
A deep breath and the gathering of courage, "I can ask Tara?" Recognizing that it was a tough choice to send people that you love into the breech, but knowing they'd need back-up, Cordelia nodded respectfully. "We'll keep her protected."  
  
"You'd better," Willow said simply, turning towards the basement and running down to talk to her mate.  
  
"Gah! I hate all this drama," Cordy whined, waiting for the rest to arrive.  
  
Angel strode up the street, anger bubbling in his veins. A sick kind of amusement as well. He should have thought of this, really. I mean, it was kind of strangely ironic, like the whole of Angel's existence, that the new Master would take up residence where the old Master of the city had called home.  
  
Didn't really need to pummel the insolent Childe into hamburger meat. But it had been fun. Angel may be souled, but he was still a Vampire and more like his grandchilde than he'd admit.  
  
After toying with the Childe, breaking down his emotional defenses and turning him into a whimpering heap, Angel started with the fun. Spike wouldn't have agreed to all the taunting, though. The blond was always more fists and fangs and 'sod all else'. But there was something so... exhilarating... about making a creature of the night cry like a child.  
  
Okay, so Cordy and Buffy had mastered that without any conventional torture, but still...  
  
The actual thrashing hadn't taken long. The Childe wasn't made of much at this stage of his existence. Angel had been more than kind and stopped the beating as soon as the location of the Master had been gained. He left the young one in the cage at Willie's in case he'd been lying or if they needed more information.  
  
Likely, Spike would have just had done with him. But Spike was never one to think about the big picture.  
  
Angel turned the familiar corner and started up Crawford St., taking long, deliberate strides. He needed time to think. Time to make a plan. If he was going to do this alone, he needed to be sure that...  
  
"What the HELL do you think you're doing?" A familiar voice, full of venom, hissed from behind him.  
  
Angel stopped, feeling much like he had when he was a child and his drunkard father was about to give him what for. Except this would be worse. "I..."  
  
"Don't I me, mister," Cordelia snapped, heels clicking against the sidewalk as she approached. "Spike warned us what you might do. I wanted to think, 'no, Angel's not that dumb' but I knew better."  
  
"I..."  
  
"Did I say you could talk?" Cordy asked, venom still dripping from her lips. The rest of the posse stood still behind her, torn between laughing hysterically and running in fear. "And sure enough, here you are, about to go to some big boy Vamp's lair to get your ass kicked and leave me with the mess of Angel Investigations. Do you know how much back rent we owe?"  
  
"Cordy, I..."  
  
A look shut Angel up as simply as a word.  
  
"This guy almost got the better of Spike and Buffy together. I know you're all big and bad and hero-like, but let's not be a complete moron. The least you could have done is thought it out. Let us know. We work together, Angel, not..."  
  
"How did you know to come here, Cordy?" Angel asked, a brow lifting as he considered it.  
  
Cordelia furrowed her brow, chuckling. "Well, duh. Where else would a Master Vampire set up than the house of the last broody Master Vampire in town? Since Spike's living that whole alternative lifestyle and all..."  
  
God, Angel thought, that girl could make him feel dumb.  
  
But he loved her anyway. She was here because he needed her. She was always there when he needed her. And, despite all the times he'd tried to get her to leave because he'd never be what she needed, she stuck by him like a stylish little ankle nipper and ruled his world.  
  
And his heart.  
  
"So, unlike you, oh heroic-yet-brainless-do-gooder, I brought in some back up," the prom queen stated, gesturing behind her. She watched Angel smile at her and had to return it. "So, we going to kick some Master's ass or what?"  
  
"I'm with the ass-kicking," Gunn commented.  
  
"Not that watching Cordelia publicly humiliate you hasn't been fun," Xander chimed in.  
  
"We'd better go," Wesley commented, hiding a smile.  
  
"Dumb ass," Cordelia mumbled, taking Angel's hand and heading up the street, their family in tow.  
  
To be contd. 


	35. Gold and Grace

Hello, All!  
  
Okay, another chapter on time! Maybe it's because the crux of the story is finally here and the Muse is ready to get it all out. We shall see if she keeps it up!  
  
Anyway, I do hope you enjoy the chapter, and, as always, feedback is fuel for my Muse.  
  
Thanks so much for your support!  
  
Cheery Vibes Nimue "We're not nerds. We're... passionate hobbyists." - Tom Lenk  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Gold and Grace (Chapter Thirty-five - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Fred studies the inner workings of high society in Sunnydale. The team sent to seek out the Master approaches their target. Spike and Emma arrive in the place where souls go to rest.  
  
Gold and Grace  
  
Fred sat on the couch, analyzing the mystical force field surrounding the houses and watching children play on the living room floor in front of her. Takina was hastily setting up supplies knowing one or more of the rest would come back a bit worse for wear. That was the way of their world.  
  
Anya, the Vengeance demon, Fred remembered, was asleep in a most non- vengeful manner, curled on the opposite couch with a small child wrapped under her arm. This was a strange little universe that this group had created. Sort of the perfect microcosm of how a prejudice-free society should function. Not that there would ever really be such a thing. But it worked for this group.  
  
From what Angel and Wesley had said, it hadn't always been that way. Amazing what giving a Slayer a chance to grow up would do for the world perspective of her and those around her.  
  
Fred cocked her head as Oz strolled into the living room, a small child tucked against each hip. A Werewolf, she thought, doting on his cubs. "I thought you guys were staying at the other house?"  
  
"Nah," Oz answered, setting the twins down on the floor and resting on the arm of an overstuffed chair. "Tara's on the Master Hunting team and Willow's working the mojo. Thought these two might want someone to play with."  
  
With a giggle, Loki began a steady toddle towards where River and Will sat on the edge of a throw rug, talking in words and gestures that only they understood. Out of the corner of his eyes, Will saw Loki approach, wobbly on new-found legs, and threw his arms around River, pulling the little girl towards him just as Loki fell flat on his face.  
  
Oz chuckled, climbing after the now whimpering boy as Fred watched on. "Oz?"  
  
"Yeah," Oz answered, amiably.  
  
"Are they ... I mean have they... Are they always like that?" Fred asked, nodding at Will who had River completely protected and tucked away against his body.  
  
Another chuckle from the Werewolf. "What, you mean like tiny grown-ups?"  
  
Fred nodded. "And the way he is with her. I've been watching them all morning. They talk in these ... I don't know... I keep thinking there's a code... and they touch and hold and he's always watching over her and... How can kids know that?"  
  
"These kids?" Oz answered. "I'm thinking there's got to be a lot of innate instinct when you get humans and ... non-humans together."  
  
"Do they ever ... I don't know. Can Spike's kids like... Vamp out? Or do yours...?"  
  
"Change at the full moon? Not so far. Although we have caught some floating stuffed animals, so they may have gotten mojo from the other side..." Oz snickered.  
  
"And what's with the way Will acts? I mean, he's not really like a kid, you know? I mean, he has fun, and he's happy and so sweet, but he's..." Fred stammered, watching Will and River return to their cryptic conversation.  
  
With a sigh, Oz flopped back down in the armchair, watching Kali and Loki begin to chatter and play with the myriad toys on the floor. "You didn't know Spike back then. Or Buffy. Or ... it's odd. If you watched the way Spike was with Buffy, that's the way Will is with River. "  
  
"All the time?" Fred asked, eyes wide.  
  
"The kids or Spike and Buffy?" Oz replied, grinning.  
  
"Spike and Buffy."  
  
"Hell, no," the Werewolf answered. "But when it comes down to it..."  
  
"And Will?" Fred queried, watching as River began to get sleepy and toppled forward to rest her head on Will's legs.  
  
"He's more serious than Spike, although who knows what Spike was like when he was a kid. Most of us think that, even though Emma is destined to stop all the bad stuff and Buffy and Spike are the One and there's a new prophesy every Tuesday, it's Will and River that are just... meant to be," Oz stated, watching Will shift against the wall and rest his small hands on River's face, watching over her as she slept. "Kinda funny, actually, being that Xander and Spike spend a lot of time hating each other. Or at least used to. Now they just play at it for old time's sake, but I've seen them acting like old pals on poker night."  
  
"You have poker night?" Fred asked. "How much to buy in?"  
  
"Fifty bucks and a drive up from LA. We're not mobile."  
  
A bright smile from the pretty science geek. "I'm in."  
  
"I don't think anyone's home," Gunn commented as the rag tag crew stood in front of the garden gate of Crawford Street Mansion. "Wouldn't be a bad place if it weren't so... creepy."  
  
"No one will take it off the market," Xander answered quietly. "I keep telling Spike and Buffy that they should buy it and I can fix it up. A lot more room when all of us get all stuck in one house because of the bad guy du jour."  
  
Wesley nodded. "It would not be a bad idea, in reality..."  
  
"Can we stop hawking real estate and figure out what we're going to do about our new friend?" Cordy chimed in, her voice annoyed, but her hand still tucked inside Angel's. "I'm really not in the mood to explain to anyone's S.O. why I've got your blood on my shirt."  
  
"Yes, Mistress," Xander snarked, taking a step back as both Angel and Cordy shot glares at him. Okay, so he was figuring out the games they liked to play while desperately avoiding that moment of happiness thing.  
  
"I think we should just... go in," Angel finally surmised. "I don't hear anything. We may as well find out what he's got in his lair that might lead us to ..."  
  
"Oh, that's brilliant," Cordy interrupted. "Stroll right in because we don't hear the silent Vampire people and get ambushed before I can even get in the proper horror movie scream."  
  
"She... she's right," Tara added. "I can put a protection ward on all of you, but I can't hold it strong enough if all of you get attacked at once." The shy Witch looked down at her feet. "I...I'm not Willow."  
  
"You're you," Xander chirped, rubbing the girl's shoulder. "And that'll help a lot."  
  
Tara smiled and looked at him from under lowered eyelashes. "Thanks."  
  
"I can help you, Tara," Wesley encouraged.  
  
"I need you for magical firepower inside," Angel countered. "And I'll need Xander and Gunn to back me up."  
  
A female voice cleared. "And moi?"  
  
"You stay out here and make sure nothing happens to Tara," Angel commanded, letting her hand slide from his.  
  
"I can take care of myself, Angel," Tara answered quietly, not entirely sure she could hold a protection spell on them all and be aware of what was walking up behind her.  
  
"But Willow would be quite cross with us if we allow you to come to harm," Wesley agreed. "I do think Angel is right in this scenario."  
  
"But," Cordy complained, wanting to be in on the action and wanting even more to be in there watching over Angel, but knowing that they were probably right. Cordelia herself had promised Willow that no harm would come to Tara. It wouldn't be right to go back on that promise. "Fine. But you," Cordelia continued, turning her gaze on Wesley, "You're the only other even half-way sensible one here. If you let him, or any of the rest of this group of idiots do anything so stupid that any of them don't come out..."  
  
Tara chuckled under her breath; Wesley rolled his eyes. Gunn smiled, patting Cordy's shoulder. Xander kissed her cheek. "Yes, mom," her ex- boyfriend and now friend joked. "We dumb-asses will be just fine."  
  
"I'll be sure to use my head, Cordelia," Wesley chided, squeezing her hand before walking towards the door followed by Gunn and Xander.  
  
"And you," Cordy snapped, grabbing Angel's hand and tugging him back to her. "Don't get all dusty on me. "  
  
"I know," Angel answered, smiling. "You can't afford the back rent." With that, he leaned down and captured her lips with his, feeling her smile into his mouth.  
  
"And I might just miss you."  
  
Spike awoke as if from a deep sleep. It was not the sort from which one feels rested, rather the kind after one shakes off a dream or a nightmare.  
  
He unfolded from the crouch in which he'd awoken and stood in the white mist. It was familiar here, even though he wasn't sure if this was a place to which he'd ever journeyed before. This was where the souls slept, he thought. Spike supposed that everyone had been here at one time or another.  
  
A gentle hand twining through his brought his senses to a focus. Turning his head, he saw the waifish, elegant young woman he knew was his daughter in the form in which he'd first met her. Her true form.  
  
"Hello, father," that rich, almost English accent cooed from behind a smile.  
  
"Why d'you always have to be an adult here?" Spike whined. "Don't have long enough with you as a tot as it is."  
  
Again, the girl smiled. "I do not change in the other realms," Emma answered simply. "I am who I am."  
  
Spike thought on that a moment, remembering back to Africa when Buffy's shadow had said the same words. Had Emma been there then as well?  
  
"I've gotten used to thinking of you as mine," Spike answered, letting her tug him forward through the mist.  
  
"That I am," Emma answered. "Although I am the daughter of the Queen of the Sky, I am the daughter of the King and Queen of your realm as well."  
  
Spike quirked a brow, not quite sure he understood.  
  
"That would be you, father. And mum," Emma clarified, amused by his confusion. "You hold more power than any other mortal or half-species. You rule your world as the Sky Queen rules this." The girl gestured her free hand to the mists around her. "You both hold dominion over your courts with love and grace. Although I'd hazard to say that there is a bit more of the latter here."  
  
Spike chuckled. "Don't always do it pretty, Mite. We just do it well."  
  
"That you do," Emma conceded. She was quiet for a moment. "You know, father, the Queen of the Sky and her King rarely appear to anyone on the mortal coil, nor do they allow mortals into their palace. That is a gift of honour reserved for her court and those she protects, as you and mum protect the world around you. There is grace in that gift."  
  
The Vampire wanted to snark something about how no one graced him with their presence, but he did feel honoured that the rulers of this world believed in he and his love enough to guide them, and trusted them enough to nurture their most cherished possession – Emma.  
  
"We should go now," Emma encouraged, pulling Spike from his reverie and beginning to walk out of the mists. Spike merely nodded his reply.  
  
The landscape changed as they walked – misty white to opal to sky blue and hazy purple. Rainbow shadows danced unnaturally in their wake, taking on a life of their own. Emma strolled the path as if it were the one leading from their house on Earth to Harris's, sure and undaunted and completely familiar.  
  
The sky changed again to a shimmering gold, fading into a muted bronze as they approached an opening in the mist. "We are almost there, father."  
  
"What should I be expecting?" Spike asked, tensing, taking his daughter's hand again, this time in protection.  
  
"There is no violence here," Emma soothed. "There will be no battle."  
  
Spike's brow furrowed. "Then why did we leave Buffy..."  
  
"I was being truthful," the young woman interrupted as they stepped completely out of the mist and onto what seemed to be rich soil, the colour of brown sugar. The landscape became neutral – browns and tans and golds in matte textures and quiet tones. Thousands of golden clouds hovered just above the soil, suspended for endless acres as far as the eye could see. On each, there was a shimmering body – not quite human and not quite corporeal, but solid enough to see and understand.  
  
"Is this..?" Spike asked, studying the field around him.  
  
Emma nodded. "The place where the souls sleep," she answered. "Where one goes to wait."  
  
"Wait?" Spike asked.  
  
"One is born, or hatched, or gifted to one dimension or another in one form or another. No matter what form one is given, it is eventually taken. Some species, like humans, are reborn for only short periods. A century or less. Others inhabit their shells for millennia. But there is one certainty. Every one of them, eventually, ends up here." She paused, scanning the golden clouds.  
  
"When one ceases to be in their plane of existence, they are delivered to either my Queen or to one of the lands below," the girl continued.  
  
"Hell," Spike contributed.  
  
"One of many. As well as purgatory, which is really just a place where people go to wait while the content of their souls is weighed and measured." Emma began to walk forward again, searching the clouds for something, although Spike wasn't quite sure what she was looking for.  
  
"When one goes below, they are kept there for eternity – unless they are rescued," Emma chided, bumping hips with her father. "Or, as in your case, it was a mistake."  
  
Spike quirked his brow. "Thought that is where I was meant to end up."  
  
Emma shook her head softly. "Had you fought your destiny and remained a Vampire with no conscience and no heart, possibly. But you were always Fated for this place, as is mum." Another long pause as they walked through the field. "When one is brought here, the outcome is different. The Queen, the Goddess, as Aunt Willow refers to her, believes that good souls should be recycled. That their wisdom and their kindness make the mortal planes more inhabitable. So those souls that still have lessons they can learn, and wisdom to impart, are allowed shelter in the Heavens for a period, and then come here, to the place of rest..."  
  
"Before they are sent back to the mortal planes," Spike completed, all of it suddenly making sense. "Like summer holiday."  
  
"A bit," Emma answered, smiling. "Once they've returned and learned all that the mortal planes have to offer, they can stay in the Heavens, or explore other planes of existence, if they wish. Until that time, however, they are required to return."  
  
"How many times does it take to learn it all?" Spike queried, watching the shimmering forms sleeping soundly on their beds of clouds.  
  
The girl chuckled. "That is dependent upon the soul. There have been those who have had thousands of incarnations and are still waiting here." She gestured around at the vast plain. "And there have been children who have lived only days on the mortal coil and have returned to us and never had to go back again."  
  
"Days?" Spike asked. "Tots?"  
  
"Sometimes the wisest of all are the smallest," Emma answered, stopping and sighing.  
  
Spike nodded his head. "A lesson I've learned in my own house."  
  
A shy grin broke on perfectly balanced features and blue eyes sparkled against golden skin. "Thank you, father."  
  
"You and your brother," Spike corrected. "Both teach me something every day."  
  
"As do you," Emma conceded. "We should have found her by now."  
  
Spike looked around at the clouds. "Not sure exactly who or what we're looking for, Mite."  
  
Emma sighed again. "I was being truthful," she began again. "About mum. It would not be fair to ask her to make this decision."  
  
"What decision? Not sure you're telling me the whole story, Tot. Know we have to talk to the soul meant for your little sis and convince her to stay here." He stopped, a pang of fear shooting through him. "Nothing bad will happen to her when we leave, will it?"  
  
Emma shook her head. "No, father. Depending on the Queen's wishes, she will either stay here and wait for another form in which to be born, or she will be allowed rest in the Kingdom for a while longer."  
  
With a sigh of relief, Spike relaxed. "Then what would make your mum so upset?"  
  
The girl was quiet, eyeing something over her father's shoulder. A form stretching from her place on the cloud and standing, approaching the pair with slow, solemn strides. "Because mum will want her back..."  
  
Spike followed his daughter's gaze, turning slowly and facing the vision in front of him  
  
There stood Joyce, tall and beautiful and smiling. His friend, his confidant and his lover's past and once-to-be future. And he was going to have to break her heart.  
  
"Were you looking for me?" The woman asked, hopefully.  
  
To be contd. 


	36. Just Beneath Sense

Hello, All,  
  
Another week and I've made it.  
  
I wish I had something witty to say, but I've just spent a lovely weekend with my father, who I haven't seen in eight months and he left this morning. So, suffice it to say I'm a wee bit sad.  
  
I hope that you enjoy the chapter. And I hope to have my chatter back shortly.  
  
Please let me know what you think.  
  
Cheery Vibes Nimue "We're not nerds. We're... passionate hobbyists." - Tom Lenk  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) yahoogroups.com HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) yahoogroups.com  
  
Title: Just Beyond Sense (Chapter Thirty-six - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) yahoo.com  
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Spike begins to tell Joyce of his mission, with Emma's help. Angel and his team enter the Crawford Street Mansion and find out that something evil lurks beneath.  
  
Just Beyond Sense  
  
Spike stood stock still, staring at the golden apparition before him. Why he didn't expect something like this, he couldn't say. It was never easy. Couldn't be the soul of Riley Finn or something that he could just say 'bugger off' and choose a new one.  
  
Had to be someone he loved.  
  
Had to be someone who deserved to have her family back.  
  
"Joyce?" Spike said softly, reaching out towards the woman. With a smile, she returned the gesture, wrapping her hand in his. It wasn't so much as a touch as she wasn't quite real. She wasn't quite... there. It was more of a warmth, a feeling, than contact.  
  
"Spike," the woman responded. "How are my girls?"  
  
It was the Vampire's turn to smile. "Beauties, as always. Dawn's getting married, less that wanker does one thing wrong in the meantime. And Buffy...."  
  
"Another baby," Joyce answered, beaming. She looked around Spike at the elegant young woman in his wake. "That can't... how can..."  
  
Spike craned his head and chuckled, taking his daughter's hand and pulling her to his side. "This is Emma. Though back home, she's a right bit smaller."  
  
A shimmering golden hand pressed over a ghostly mouth as Joyce's eyes filled with tears. "I remember seeing... God, she looks just like..."  
  
"Like Buffy," Spike completed, squeezing his daughter's hand. "Bit taller, from the looks of things."  
  
Joyce chuckled. "She has your eyes, though."  
  
Emma took a step forward, feeling that familial connection without ever truly knowing her grandmother, and wrapped her arms around the woman. "Thank you."  
  
A gulp and tears welled behind not-quite-eyes. "For what, Emma?" Joyce answered, running her hands over the girl's golden hair.  
  
"For my family. Were it not for you, my mum would not be the woman that she became. My father might not have had a chance. And my brother... he would not have even..." the girl continued, clinging to the woman, trying to take what may be her only opportunity to tell her grandmother she loved her.  
  
"You know?" Joyce asked, pushing the girl back to look into her eyes. "How do you know about Will? About..."  
  
"She's a native, Joyce," Spike interrupted, watching the scene with rising emotion. Knowing what was coming. "An emissary – a daughter – to the pretty bird that runs the show here."  
  
"The Sky Queen?" Joyce asked. "You're..."  
  
"Hers. As well as theirs," Emma answered, nodding at her father. "I am Peace."  
  
A furrowed brow and Spike began to think of an explanation for what his daughter had said. Instead of a question, however, Joyce merely answered, "I know."  
  
With all that lay in front of them the Vampire felt that now was not the time to press further. What one knew, what one saw, after spending time in this place... there was no way to quantify. And Emma... just being near her, one could tell she truly was Peace.  
  
Another tight embrace and Joyce tugged Spike in with them. Her touch was a tingle, a warm glow. The feeling he had when he was alone with Buffy just holding her hand, or telling bedtime stories with Will curled up under one wing and Emma the other. The feeling of hot chocolate with little white...  
  
'Hot chocolate with the white petals in the dark brown. Sweet like a girl's blood.' Dru's voice ripped through his addled mind. 'A golden soul with tips of roses.'  
  
"She knew," Spike repeated under his breath.  
  
Emma turned her head and smiled sadly. "She knew many things, father."  
  
"Who?" Joyce asked, loosening the embrace but not letting go of either one. "What?"  
  
With a sigh, Spike took a step back. He couldn't accept that warmth, that home, knowing what he had to do. "Drusilla," he answered quietly.  
  
"Drusilla?" Joyce asked. "Is she... back?"  
  
Spike shook his head, waves of grief that he hadn't had a chance to feel welling up in his chest. "She's gone, Joyce."  
  
"Oh, Spike," the woman whispered, understanding even now the connections the held people together. Love. Grief. Forgiveness. She pulled him back against her, wrapping those warm, soothing arms around him and he almost allowed himself to grieve.  
  
Almost.  
  
With a gasp of effort, Spike pulled back again and looked the kindest woman he'd known since he'd looked upon his own mum. "She told me things, Joyce. Things I think you need to hear."  
  
A flash of worry crossed the eldest Summers' face and she crossed her arms against a chill that only she felt. "What is it Spike? Is it... Is Buffy...Is it the baby?"  
  
Spike nodded once, trying to look away. But Joyce deserved to be met eye to eye. Even if he was going to break her heart.  
  
Tara knelt in a dark corner of the courtyard outside of the mansion, sprinkling herbs around her in a circle and chanting softly. Cordy paced behind her, watching the darkness like a lioness guarding her den.  
  
"You done yet?" The prom queen asked, her voiced laced with annoyance and concern.  
  
"Almost," Tara answered quietly, "I need to concentrate."  
  
"Wesley always says that too," Cordelia huffed. "It's supposed to just go Presto-You-Have-A-Magic-Shield"  
  
With a chuckle, Tara wrote off Cordy's aggravation as the concern she knew it was and let it go. "Just a moment more." Another series of chants and Tara tossed a handful of sage into the candle flame in front of her. "Protectus."  
  
A white light glowed around her and Cordelia felt it surround her as well like a warm, blanket of light and heat. "Tingly."  
  
"A little," Tara conceded, concentrating, but more relaxed now that the spell was cast. "Shouldn't get in their way."  
  
"Let's hope to God it does", the dark-haired beauty snarked in response.  
  
"Quite effective," Wesley commented, shuddering as the ward wrapped around him. Ahead of him in the darkened hall, Xander shook like a dog, and then settled back into stride. Gunn did a spine-chill dance and calmed immediately. And Angel just shrugged.  
  
At least it had reached them all.  
  
"I don't see anything here, big guy," Gunn whispered as they walked down the corridor toward the basement. There was no sign of habitation on the first level and Angel thought it the best bet to try downstairs, where there was no light, as the second avenue of search.  
  
"It... it feels wrong," Xander considered, hefting the battle axe over his left shoulder and checking for the stake in tucked in the back of his jeans. "Like..."  
  
"Like everything is just below the surface," Wesley commented. "Just beyond our sight."  
  
Angel nodded. "Spike had mentioned that this Master had Powers that were... different."  
  
"Disguising an entire household, though?" Gunn asked, sticking close to Angel's back, the four of them huddled together like a pack with Angel in the lead.  
  
"I don't know if they could disguise everything," Wesley answered. "But it's certainly possible to place a glamour over what they do not want us to see..."  
  
"Can we ... un-glamorize it?" Xander asked, shivering again.  
  
"Do we want to?" Gunn added, chuckling a little.  
  
"Point taken," Xander shot back.  
  
"If you two can't shut up..." Angel snapped. "Wesley, do you think you can pull off the dust cover and see what's underneath?"  
  
"Simple enough to do," Wesley answered, feeling the energy pool in his body as he began to concentrate. "Although there is a certain level of truth in what Charles was saying. Are we truly prepared for what lies beneath?"  
  
Angel turned and the other three stopped shortly before colliding with him. "We're here to take out the Master that threatens my line, not to tiptoe around like some bad Scooby Doo movie." With an inhalation of needless breath, he faced Wesley and continued. "Do it."  
  
The Watcher nodded and took a deep breath, pooling power until it bubbled from his body. He could feel Tara struggle to hold the ward, feel what he was doing, and let go long enough for Wesley to spout one word.  
  
Illuminata.  
  
Tara snapped the ward back into place as the power bubbled forth from the man and all that they saw around them reshaped. Dusty rooms became epic halls. Empty chambers became full of laughter and the sounds of Vampires supping. Dingy grays and cobweb filled blacks became crimson and marble and stone.  
  
The three humans pressed closer together.  
  
"How come I feel like I just walked into the lion's den?" Gunn asked, looking around, horrified.  
  
"Uh, cause we did," Xander agreed.  
  
"Actually, we're in no more danger than we were before we saw it. Less even. Just because we couldn't see them...." Wesley commented.  
  
"The old dog with his head under the pillow defense," Harris commented, nodding. "Thinks just because he can't see you you can't see him even though his whole big, hairy bottom is hanging out from under the pillow."  
  
"Crude, but precisely," Wesley answered.  
  
"So, boss, what do we do now?" Gunn asked, feeling the darkness of the creatures beginning to close in around them.  
  
"Uh, fight?" Angel answered as several of the doors into the corridor opened at once and a dozen yellow eyes stared at them from all angles. "Well."  
  
Joyce sat down again, her feet dangling above the brown sugar soil as she rested on her cloud. "What is it, Spike? What's wrong?"  
  
She patted the cloud and he settled down next to her. It felt like one of those comfortable foam beanbag chairs that the kids had. Soft and squishy and like one could sleep away their days in it.  
  
Sleep away their souls.  
  
"New tot," Spike began. "One that's on its way."  
  
How did he do this without flat out breaking her? And let it be her choice?  
  
"Dru told me before she di...Before she ... went away, that the soul that would be... her... well..."  
  
"Is me," Joyce completed. "I know, Spike. The Sky Queen asked me if I'd go..."  
  
Spike's eyes widened and he looked at his daughter for the courage to move on. Emma nodded, sitting down behind Spike and resting her head on his shoulder, filling him with her calm. "Remember a while back, Joyce, daft bloke named Luke and an evil bastard... Gwydion."  
  
Joyce shook at the sound of the names. She didn't ever remember meeting them, but their names, their darkness, scarred her very soul. She nodded in reply.  
  
"The two of them have started a little movement to get at us. You see, it's not really good business for the hell dimensions to have Emma here in existence, what with the ending all the wars and bringing peace. Sort of cuts down on the damned souls. So, they've made it a personal mission to try any way they can to get at the tot. And at Buffy and me because they know that to get near her, they'll have to take out both of us." Spike paused, taking a deep breath and watching Joyce's face. It was torn between a smile and a frown, twitching from one to the other in the blink of an eye.  
  
"She couldn't be better protected," the woman finally commented.  
  
Spike nodded. "Won't let a creature of heaven, hell or anywhere in between lay a hand on my girls," Spike preened, puffing out his chest. The gesture reminded her so much of the blustery Spike she'd met long ago, she had to smile.  
  
"And I am guessing your trip up here has something to do with these two.... morons," Joyce commented. It was Spike's turn to smile. He loved how Joyce could turn a fairly mild jab into a razor sharp insult just by the glint in her eye and the tone in her voice. Buffy had the same talent, although not always the same grace.  
  
"It does," Spike continued, the cheer disappearing from his voice. "When they took you, Joyce, when they... defiled... you...." Anger bubbled to the surface as he thought of her helplessly being guided to harm her own. "They left a mark."  
  
Joyce nodded in response. "I feel it." Instinctively, she turned to Emma. "Will it always be there? It's like a dirty spot on my good china."  
  
Emma smiled sadly. "No grandmother. It will fade over time. And it will have no effect on you or on your family while you are here."  
  
It was almost as if cartoon light bulbs had shuddered to life above both sets of heads. Spike was amazed that Emma had phrased it so simply and with as little pain as possible. Joyce's heart dropped out of her chest, realizing what the child's words meant.  
  
"While I'm here," Joyce repeated. "In other words...."  
  
Spike shook his head. "We can't... I can't... tell you what to... God, Joyce!" He stood up, punching the air in front of him like a petulant child. "I don't want to tell you..."  
  
"But it has to be my choice," Joyce answered, all the pieces coming together.  
  
Spike nodded, feeling the anger mixing with the grief that was bubbling with frustration to a fine mixture of emotional breakdown.  
  
"What if I say no?"  
  
To be contd. 


	37. Choosing Home

Hey, all!  
  
Okay, I finally got another one out, even with double overtime. I'm pretty amazed, since I worked through the weekend. I'll do my best to keep it up!  
  
Sorry for the delay. I want this story to end just so. And, alas, we are nearing the end of Meant to Be.  
  
But, stay tuned as we're almost at the searing climax (what? It can be searing!).  
  
Enjoy and remember, feedback fuels the Muse!  
  
Cheery Vibes Nimue "Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at)   
  
Title: Choosing Home(Chapter Thirty-seven - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at)   
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Angel and Company raid the mansion, however, they take a casualty. Spike and Joyce conclude their conversation, but there's still work to be done. Choices to be made.  
  
Choosing Home  
  
"Fan out!" Angel ordered as the Vampires around them began to take notice. Most of them seemed young to the eldest of the Aurelians. But there were a few that dated a bit older than himself.  
  
And Spike had said something about powers....  
  
The three human men in the entourage obeyed, spreading themselves behind Angel. Gunn behind and to the left. Wesley behind and to the right. Xander turning to face the rear, his back to Angel.  
  
Colourful eyes began to shift to gold, pair by pair, as if the room was filling with hungry jungle cats. "What do we do now, boss?" Gunn asked.  
  
"Uh, FIGHT!" Xander expelled in his most girly horror movie voice possible, as a small cadre moved on him in a flash.  
  
Before Angel could turn around and help the boy, some of the older ones descended upon him, seemingly from the ceiling of the great room. Wesley spun, first moving towards Angel, and then deciding if either one needed help, it was Xander.  
  
Gunn's face turned from jovial to rock hard in a moment and he swung the axe from his shoulder with a huff of air, beginning to cut a swath through the dead souls descending upon them in droves.  
  
For all of his screaming and his faux-cowardice, Xander knew his place in the fight. Knew his way with weapons. Had learned from watching and from doing. He'd even swallowed his pride and taken fighting lessons from Spike while he was teaching Dawn. When the third Vampire grabbed onto the boy, he snarled, tossing the axe to Wesley and grabbing for the more maneuverable stake tucked in the back of his jeans.  
  
No one was taking him away from his family.  
  
No one.  
  
With a growl of effort, Xander lunged forward and jabbed the wood into the heart of one of the fledglings, watching it poof into dust. With a kick, he pushed back another. Too many, he thought. Too many. One grabbed him around the neck and lunged forward, sharp teeth prickling at the soft skin of the boy's neck.  
  
No one, he thought again, struggling to gain purchase.  
  
As the Vampire moved forward to bite, a white-hot light shot from Xander's skin. Like contact sunlight, frying the undead Lothario mid-bite.  
  
Wesley turned from his own battle at the flash of light and saw a dazed Xander chuckling nervously.  
  
"Did you see that?"  
  
"Yes," Wesley answered simply, suddenly feeling a wash of confidence. Tara had done more than she expected. Packed more of a punch in her desperation to do this right.  
  
"Was that the ward?" Gunn asked, chopping his way through a line of Vampires on his way to Angel's side.  
  
Wesley nodded, tossing Xander's axe back to him and drawing a sword from a sheath on the wall. Vampires always had convenient decorations. "Tara's will, and her wording of the spell, must have created more than just a shield around us."  
  
"It's made us unbeatable?" Angel grunted as he kicked a younger Vampire back against a wall a good thirty feet south.  
  
"No," Wesley responded, backing up against Xander and beginning to fight the pair's way over to where Angel was taking on the older Vampires two at a time. "It doesn't seem to have increased our strength or speed or made us incapable of being defeated. What it does seem to have accomplished is to truly protect us, physically, from any harm traditionally inflicted by a Vampire."  
  
"They can't bite us," Gunn summarized, swinging in a circle and taking out three Vampires in the process.  
  
"Can't protect us from you, Gunn," Xander heaved, ducking out of the way of the circling axe. "Watch the friendlies."  
  
"Sorry, man,' Gunn replied, working his way towards the back wall and, presumably, the basement entrance. Angel already stood by the door, fighting off the minions with only a stake.  
  
With the way they were defending that entrance, there must be something to protect, Angel thought as the three humans slowly made their way towards him. Maybe the Master himself.  
  
"Think our boy's down there?" Gunn called out, kicking the legs out from under a Vampire as another jumped on his back and got a blinding dose of sunlight when his fangs pricked his skin.  
  
Angel nodded and drove a stake through another minion's heart. "I know Spike said that this Master has got some sort of mojo, but man does he need to teach his boys to fight better."  
  
"Ha!" Xander panted, kicking away another minion and dancing with a startling lack of grace away from the third. "Don't jinx it, broody."  
  
"Hate it when you call me that," Angel responded, knocking another Vamp to the floor and stomping on his neck. "I'm not broody."  
  
"Uh, boss?" Gunn snarked, a smile coming back to his handsome face. "You are a little glum at times."  
  
Even Wesley chuckled. This wasn't going to be the nightmare it had first looked to be.  
  
Tara knelt in the courtyard, completely involved in the spell. Eyes shut, mouth moving in a rhythmic chant. Willow had worked on the basic spell, but she'd toyed with it a bit. She hoped, hearing the snarling and roaring and crashing from inside, that the sunlight bit had worked in the manner she'd meant it.  
  
Cordelia paced behind her, boots clacking against the concrete. Angry utterances spilled from her lips, none of which disturbed the Witch. Cordy wanted to be inside. In the thick of it. Helping her friends. Fighting beside her mate. If anyone understood that, it was the Sunnydale crew.  
  
Note to self: when concentration isn't so important, work on a way to disassemble that happiness clause, Tara thought. Sex wasn't everything, no. But it sure made life a little less... tense.  
  
Suddenly, a sharp intake of breath behind her caught Tara's attention. She tried to remain focused on the spell. Tried to keep the chant. Tried not to...  
  
But then something warm and wet splashed down onto her hand and the Witches' eyes opened with a start. Blood dripped from her open palms to the cold concrete.  
  
Not hers.  
  
With a gasp, Tara turned and saw Cordelia as she dropped to the ground, a tall, dark haired Vampire standing behind her with a dagger coated in crimson.  
  
"You will take me to the One now," the dark haired one stated simply, letting Cordelia slide to a puddle at his feet. "No more delays. Your... friends... will have to make do on their own."  
  
Tara stared in horror at the beauty queen on the ground, a dark pool of deep red spreading slowly from her back. "I...I..."  
  
"Now," the dark Vampire commanded, grabbing Tara by the hair. "And you will have your mate disarm their fortress, or I will kill her too."  
  
Spike stood, staring blankly at Joyce. He hadn't prepared an answer for that. To be honest, he hadn't really considered the thought that she'd tell him no and decide to go anyway.  
  
Was that what she was saying?  
  
"Grandmother?" Emma interrupted softly.  
  
"What if I say no?" Joyce asked. "What if I decide ... What if I want to see my baby again? What if I want to see the World? What if I want to see Dawn get married, even if I'd be too young to remember it? What if I want to wrap my arms around Buffy again? What if that's more important to me than... than...? World Peace?" Her voice cracked and wavered as tears decided when to fall. With a sigh, the woman wrapped her arms around herself and stood, planting bare feet in sugar brown soil. "What if I want to go home?"  
  
Spike stared at his own feet, watching the toes of his boots as if they held the answers. To be honest, it was much simpler than that. He knew if he looked at Joyce, he'd cry. Maybe he was tough. Maybe he was part of the most strength and valour the World had to offer...  
  
...but the Summers girls always had his heart, and their hearts were in his care. And breaking even one of them – hell, even making one of them anything but happy – broke a part of himself.  
  
"S'not about World Peace to me either, Joyce," Spike responded solemnly, still staring at the toes of his boots. "Wish I could be all Prince Valiant and tell you it was about saving the World and allowing Emma to meet her destiny. Wish I could tell you that I was so noble as to be willing to sacrifice it all to end strife and all that superhero rubbish." With enormous effort, Spike stood, the weight of all the Worlds crashing down on his shoulders at the thought of disappointing this one woman.  
  
This one woman who'd given him solace.  
  
He turned towards her. Joyce was standing facing away from him with her face towards the mists from whence Spike and Emma had come. Tentatively, he held out his hand, drew it back again, and then summoned the courage to place his palm on her shoulder and turn her lightly to face him.  
  
Which made it even harder.  
  
Golden tears streamed down Joyce's face, leaving glimmering trails of heartbreak. Beautiful, kind eyes brimmed full, the corners spilling under the weight of sadness. Spike felt his own heart breaking watching her struggle. She shouldn't have to. This woman should be the Queen of that house, her Princesses at her side. Not a distant audience to some cosmic play.  
  
But it didn't change the facts.  
  
"S'not about that, Joyce," Spike finally said, his own eyes brimming. "If it were up to me, I'd have you all there for all eternity. You. Buffy. Dawn. The little ones." He sighed, closing his eyes for a moment before continuing. "S'not up to me though. I didn't make the rules, nor did you, or Emma, or any of us. But they're ours to play by, nonetheless. But it's not about the future history of the World. Not to me. Not to you."  
  
"What is it about then?" Joyce asked, her voice raw and cracked.  
  
"S'about a child," Spike answered, simply, trying to be as honest as he could. "S'about my child. My children. Buffy's. Were it just about the fate of the Universe, I'd be tempted to say bugger it all and come back to us. But the fact of the matter is, if you do come home... if we could have you with us again... it wouldn't be you. Not completely. Those two demon gits would have control of you again. And they'd make you do things...."  
  
Joyce shuddered, a distant, vague memory of what had happened in the past floating through her soul.  
  
"And they'd have you kill Emma, Joyce. Or try. They'd have you kill Buffy. And I... I love you, you know that?" His voice was beginning to shake as his thoughts began to spiral into horror.  
  
Joyce nodded, her hand over her mouth, considering the consequences of her refusal. "I know."  
  
"But I couldn't let you do that. I wouldn't let you. And I couldn't... I'd never want to bear the weight of stopping you. And you - you wouldn't, you couldn't live with what you'd done. Not you. Not someone like you."  
  
Joyce nodded, a fresh stream of tears carving a path through the ethereal gold of her skin. "I don't want to hurt her. I don't want to hurt any of you. I just... I want to go home, Spike."  
  
With a sigh, he drew her to him, folding her into his arms. "There isn't a day that goes by, Joyce, that you aren't there. That you aren't remembered. So much of you is in them. The way Buffy gets Emma to school. The way Dawn brushes her hair a hundred strokes a night before she goes to bed. Emma's smile." He swallowed, remembering the nights Joyce had fed him hot chocolate and given him a chance to be himself. To be the walking Hallmark card that no one else could have understood at that point. Another crushing blow to his heart.  
  
"You'll love them enough for both of us?" The woman asked, pulling away and trying to adopt her best Brave Little Toaster face.  
  
Spike smiled. "That I will."  
  
Joyce closed her eyes, and with a deep intake of breath, she looked at her family. Emma stood quietly behind her father, the perfect mix of both of her parents. Spike stared at her, wet eyed and kind, even behind the blustery bravado that they all had known in the beginning. Pleading. Hoping. Hating that they had to do either.  
  
"I won't go," Joyce finally said quietly. "I'll stay here."  
  
With a flash, the sky lit to a brilliant purple and a winged horse split through the dusky clouds, gliding to the brown sugar soil and landing in a cloud of golden dust.  
  
Graceful and lithe, the Sky Queen alighted, her tanned bare feet barely marking the ground on which she stood. "It is a wise and kindly choice, my child. One for which you will be rewarded."  
  
A small child, no more than six or seven, dropped down from the winged horse's back after the Queen with the grace of a tiny ballerina. The girl stood next to the Pegasus, well behind the Queen, shy and frightened and lost.  
  
"My Queen," both Joyce and Emma said, dropping into a bow. Spike rolled his eyes and then dropped his head in reverence.  
  
"No need for that," the Queen answered, tipping up Spike's chin with her fingers, before kissing both Emma and Joyce on the cheek and raising them to their feet. "Joyce, as you have made an excruciating decision, and deserve a rest, I ask if you would like to join me in the castle for a while. I have made accommodations, and you should find someone there waiting for you there to ease your pain."  
  
A small smile crossed the woman's face. "Buffy?"  
  
The Queen nodded and Spike stiffened. "You... you can't... you..."  
  
"Not that one, father, "Emma answered smiling.  
  
"There's more than one?" Spike asked, spinning to face his daughter. "And the World hasn't imploded?"  
  
With a chuckle, the Queen intervened. "Part of her was left behind when she died. The part that was a fully human girl. Emma can explain that further, I am sure. However, that part belongs solely to her Mother. I know she will be glad to have you back."  
  
Joyce smiled again, tears still wet on her face. "Is she all right?"  
  
"She's taken to playing with the creatures in the garden. I think she's quite happy," the Queen answered. "Although she will be happier now."  
  
The Queen turned back to Spike. "However, as hard as this has been on all of you, you still have a job to do."  
  
With a shudder, Spike considered what the new torture might be. "What now? Find my own mum and tell her she'll never see anyone she loves again?"  
  
"Your mother is living happily in Wales at the moment. She's approximately sixteen Earth years old and likes Britney Spears and a boy named Ian."  
  
Wide-eyed, Spike shook his head. "What have you done to her?!"  
  
"Told you she liked recycling," Emma joked, wrapping her arms around her father's bicep and resting her head on his shoulder. "Most will come back many times over."  
  
"Britney Spears?" Spike shuddered in disbelief.  
  
The Queen smiled, giggling to herself. "Still, with Joyce having made her decision to remain here in order to protect our families, the task of choosing another soul to inhabit the body of your daughter now falls to you."  
  
"Thought that's what you heavenly types did," Spike snarked, feeling Joyce lace her fingers through his and hold on for their last few moments.  
  
With an air of mock annoyance, the Queen shook her head. "See if I bestow such graces on you in the future. It is an honour to choose." Again, the beautiful Queen smiled, sweeping her hand back towards her mount. "Although I did assume you'd say something like that, so I endeavoured to make your choice easier."  
  
Spike furrowed his brow. "A horse? A defective one at that?"  
  
The Pegasus pawed the ground and snorted. "I'm not defective, Vampire. No more than you are a defective Human."  
  
That surprised Spike. Even the livestock had a voice in Heaven. "Apologies," the Vampire responded, bowing his head.  
  
"Accepted," the Pegasus answered accordingly.  
  
"Not the horse," the Queen interrupted, gesturing for the small child to approach. The little girl left the safety of the creature's wing and glided towards them, eyes huge with fear and confusion. A beautiful young girl.  
  
And one whose familiarity went straight to Spike's heart.  
  
"You recognize her, Spike?" Joyce asked knowingly.  
  
Spike nodded, staring at the lovely child standing with her hand wrapped in the Queen's. "Yes, Pet. That I do."  
  
To be contd. 


	38. Second Floor Travelers

Hey, all.  
  
Well, it took me long enough! But I got one out, finally.  
  
Hope you enjoy it and I will do my best to get the next bit out next Tuesday.  
  
Thanks! And feedback is always appreciated.  
  
Cheery Vibes Nimue "Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – A Midsummer Night's Dream  
  
www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/ AlwaysEveryday (at) HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at)   
  
Title: Second Floor Travelers (Chapter Thirty-eight - Meant to Be)  
  
Author: Nimue  
  
Rating: PG-13  
  
Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)  
  
Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at)   
  
Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::  
  
Summary: Tara has been taken by the Master, but manages to get a last- ditch warning off to Willow. Willow tries to help those fighting in the mansion, as well as get Buffy and her family to safety. Spike and Emma are still traveling and meet who they think may be their next of kin. Angel and Co. make a gruesome discovery.  
  
Second Floor Travelers  
  
Tara walked silently, the cold hand of the Master clutching the back of her neck. Breathing evenly, she tried to steady her heart. Tried to open her mind.  
  
There was only one chance that any of this would end well – and even then, nothing would be right ever again. Flashes of Cordy's crumpled body on the courtyard stone filled the quiet Witch's head with crimson and fear.  
  
She had to try.  
  
A physical manifestation of thought would be far too obvious. Tara couldn't exactly send a message to the crew in the mansion like that without the Master killing everyone he came in contact with, including her, from this point forward. But Willow... Willow she could contact just by thought.  
  
If she could remain calm.  
  
Closing her eyes for a moment as she walked, the Witch poured all of her concentration into one line of thought. One mantra. One woman who might understand. 'Drop the ward. Get out. Send message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Get out. Drop the ward. Get out. Send message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Trap."  
  
Over and over again, Tara thought the words. Thought them into existence. Thought them along some invisible communication line in her mind. Thought them down streets and sidewalks and wished them there faster than her. Pushed them with the power of her will and forced them though the ward of the house and screamed them into the corridors and rooms.  
  
'Drop the ward. Get out. Send a message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Get out.'  
  
Spike studied the girl for a long moment, head tilted to the side. The little girl looked at her bare feet with such untarnished innocence. Such sweet grace and quiet timidness.  
  
Stars, this is what she was like? Gentle and kind and quiet.  
  
And this was turned into....  
  
The girl blushed crimson and looked down at her feet again as if some part of her could read his thoughts. Some part of her knew what she had come from. Knew what had happened. But she didn't. At least that is what Emma was whispering in Spike's ear. She didn't know. She was just a little girl and by the strength of her human soul, and the love of those she left behind, was granted a clean slate in the World of the Sky Queen.  
  
She would never have to know that pain, Spike thought, watching the girl trace patterns in the brown sugar soil with a toe, her leg stretched like a ballerina's from under her gold-white dress.  
  
Spike crouched, rocking back on his heels and coming to eye level with the girl. "You all right, Pet?"  
  
The girl looked up at him with enormous eyes, blinking. "I died."  
  
The Vampire nodded. "I know. So'd I."  
  
The little girl nodded. "Sky said my brothers and sisters aren't here anymore. But if I go and come back, she'll make sure I see 'em."  
  
With a soft smile and a glance at the Queen, he nodded. "I'm sure she'd let you wait if you wanted."  
  
"Of course," the Queen agreed, crouching down next to the child and putting a hand on her shoulder. "Although," she began again in a voice full of temptation, "You'd have a brother and sister there too."  
  
The little girl spun her head towards the Sky Queen. "Like before?"  
  
"Yes; although they are different people, they would still love you," the Queen answered.  
  
Spike turned his head and looked at Emma for a moment. "There's one," he commented.  
  
"She's old," the tyke answered, looking at Emma who chuckled.  
  
Spike echoed the laugh. "Just here, Pet. At home, she's 'bout your size. Things here aren't always what they seem, apparently."  
  
The little girl looked confused and then nodded. "Will they play with me?"  
  
Emma smiled. "Of course. Will and I would both play with you."  
  
Again the girl nodded, turning her attention back to Spike. "You'd be my dad?"  
  
With a chuckle, Spike answered. "Looks that way, Love."  
  
"My mum?"  
  
"Her name is Buffy," the Sky Queen answered. "And she is the strongest, bravest mum in all the land. And she'll love you more than anything."  
  
"That she will," Spike agreed, a hint of concern in his thoughts. He knew Buffy would love this child, no matter what. Would protect her through any crisis or apocalypse. Would never let her down.  
  
But how would she feel... how would she react when she found out...  
  
This wasn't the same person. This was the human version, as Will was his own human soul.  
  
"She will love her," Emma answered in his mind. "There will be no hesitation. This is not who you knew, just the soul of a girl who was taken too soon."  
  
A silent nod and Spike looked at the Sky Queen, who confirmed Emma's thoughts. This was the soul of a young girl stolen from her life. One who deserved to have it made right again. One who deserved to hear the stars sing once again.  
  
"Would you like to come home with us, Pet?" Spike asked, holding a hand out to the young girl.  
  
She looked at him, all wide-eyed innocence, for a long moment. Her raven hair spilled over her shoulders and made her small face look waifish and lost. But those enormous eyes shone with hope, blinking back tears. With a nervous hesitation, the girl raised her hand and placed it inside of Spike's. "You will love me?"  
  
"'Course, Tot," Spike answered, lifting her up to his hip. "You sure you want to come to us? Things get a bit strange from time to time back home."  
  
The little girl looked at Emma. "Will they really love me?"  
  
Emma smiled. "More than the world."  
  
Willow sat on the couch downstairs, flipping through tome after tome, looking for clues on this Master. Buffy was upstairs, watching over Spike and Emma as they journeyed. Oz had taken Loki and Kali to Xander's house to play. It was just her and the travelers on the second floor.  
  
A little time to do research and...  
  
The front door creaked. Then rattled. Then shook with earthquake force. Then burst open with a crack.  
  
Tara's voice flooded the room, a scream of wind in the otherwise silent house. "DROP THE WARD. GET OUT. SEND A MESSAGE TO XANDER. TRAP. TRAP. GET OUT." The mantra repeated over and over in a deafening scream until a stunned Willow leapt to her feet in a rush and shut the door, her heart racing a mile a moment.  
  
Was this real? Or just a different sort of trap? Real? Different sort of trap?  
  
Trying to still herself, Willow used her power. She extended her senses, searching for her mate. Seeking her out in the darkness and fog and fear.  
  
There she was. Walking solemnly down an empty street, a hooded darkness behind her, guiding her with a frozen hand on the back of her neck. As Willow probed, a set of beautiful, familiar eyes popped open and stared ahead, parted lips mouthing 'Drop the ward. Get out. Send a message to Xander. Trap. Trap. Get out.' before falling still and silent once again.  
  
Real.  
  
And Tara was in danger.  
  
In a flurry of movement, Willow ran to the basement, lighting a candle and beginning a spell that would alter the ward to cover Xander's house but fall away from this one. Hurrying through, she made the choice to seal Xander's shut completely, hoping she'd make it back to open it again once the situation had been set right. In the meantime, no one was touching those kids. Not hers. Not anyone else's.  
  
As soon as the ward was re-set, Willow took a deep breath, calming her mind, and meditated. Xander had never been very good at the whole telepathy thing. Dozens of failed attempts proved that he had way too many trains of thought chugging through his mind at once to quiet it enough to receive a message. For a brief moment, the Witch thought about contacting Wesley, but the pair didn't know each other well enough to be sure he'd get the right message from her panic addled mind.  
  
But would Angel believe the perennially fearful Xander if he screamed to him to get out, to fall back and realize it was a trap? Or would the Vampire just assume it was the same scared boy of old, wanting to turn tail and run?  
  
Time to use a little bit of Tara's tactic, Willow decided, and combine it with a light show.  
  
With a deep breath, the redhead began a chant. A series of non-contiguous spells wrapped into a growing ball of sunlight in her hand. Words and images and sparks and screams and pleas and hopefully, a little fried Vampire.  
  
It wasn't likely Angel would buy this anyway. But Xander would know. And it would freak Gunn into believing. And Wesley might just convince Angel it was time to run...  
  
With a torrent of energy and a strong wind behind her, Willow walked to the basement window, opened the glass, and sent her creation into the night.  
  
A knock on the door and Buffy started, staring at the wood with a mixture of annoyance and fear. They were not to be disturbed. Not until her love and her baby were back and awake. Buffy needed all of her concentration for that.  
  
Like a feral cat, she stared at the door, eyes glowing with protective anger. "What?" She hissed to the offensive piece of wood.  
  
"Buffy?" The familiar voice from the other side whispered just loud enough to hear. "Something's gone wrong, Buffy. Tara sent a message. Something's really wrong and we need to get out."  
  
At the sound of her long-time friend's voice, part of her calmed. The rest digested the message and her body started a new wave of fear and anger.  
  
"What happened?"  
  
"I don't know yet," Willow answered to the closed door. "But the Master has Tara. Angel and the others are walking into a trap, and I think that Tara's being forced to bring the big guy here. She told me to drop the ward and get us all out."  
  
Heartbeat pounding, Buffy looked down at her sleeping, defenseless family. They weren't back yet. She didn't know how long they'd be. No one could know. But until Spike could protect himself and their daughter, Buffy wasn't going anywhere.  
  
"Let them come," the Slayer hissed, staring at the door.  
  
"Buffy?"  
  
"Spike's not back yet. I'm not leaving them..."  
  
"We could take..."  
  
"They might not be able to return if they can't find their way, Will," Buffy replied before the Witch finished her sentence. A sharp intake of breath as the word brought back other thoughts. "Will. Where's my Will?"  
  
"Warded up in the other house with the rest. It's just us here. They're okay, Buffy," Willow answered, finally finding some good news. "But you know that this Master is..."  
  
"Get out, Willow," Buffy interrupted. "Find a way to get Xander and the rest out of the mansion. Find Giles and put that big brain to use, and find a way to stop this big jerk. But I'm not leaving."  
  
"Buffy..." A last pleaded sigh.  
  
"Go. "  
  
Willow closed her eyes, touching the closed door. "He's got Tara, Buffy."  
  
The Slayer looked down at her own mate and remembered all the times one or the other of them were missing or lost or in some kind of peril. Seemed like every Tuesday. And every time, it was just as terrifying.  
  
Because one of these times would be the last.  
  
"I'll get her away. Just... find a way to help us."  
  
Another deep breath from the Witch. "Be careful, Buffy."  
  
A soft smile crossed the Slayer's lips. "I will."  
  
The four men halted at the top of the cellar stairs as a howling started low and deep in the entryway. Even the Vampires turned to take a look at the source of the screaming. A wolf? Too loud for just one. A pack? Werewolves? If so, and they weren't of the Oz variety, all of them were in a boatload of trouble.  
  
The sound grew, rattling the house, making pictures fall from walls and silver clatter to the stone as it came ever closer. Haunting screams, like banshees on the warpath, wound their way like ivy through the entry hall and into the great room, catching everyone's attention and stopping what seemed like unending fisticuffs.  
  
Wesley cocked his head as a small, round, glowing ball screamed around the corner, howling and mewling and stopping dead, floating at about his eye level. It stilled, apart from a sort of ethereal bounce, and fell quiet, ending the screeching noise.  
  
The Vampires circled the ball, as Xander recognized it. Willow. It had her... sense of humour. Something about it was all her. And he knew her work pretty well by now. "Back up," the boy whispered, "Away from the stairs."  
  
Gunn nodded, moving back into the great room and flattening himself against the wall. The rest followed suit as the Vampires inspected the floating white ball.  
  
"What does it do?" Gunn asked.  
  
"I don't have a clue," Xander answered as Wes slid up next to him. "But it's Willow's, and it's big, so get ready to ..."  
  
The ball burst open in a flash of dazzling daylight and a familiar voice screamed out parts of Tara's message, mixed with Willow's own. "GET OUT. IT'S A TRAP. MASTER ON WAY TO BUFFY'S. HE'S GOT TARA. GET OUT!"  
  
The light beamed from the once solid ball and it dawned on Angel that Willow and Tara had somehow figured a way to generate all of their spells against Vampires with an extra instruction to detect and avoid souls. The sunlight beamed, frying every Vampire in the room, but Angel stood only ten feet away and watched the show as if it were part of Pink Floyd live.  
  
Hunh.  
  
Must have had a lot of practice with Spike and his shared soul in the mix.  
  
The Vampire was startled back to attention as Wesley grabbed his arm on the way past, running for the entryway and the courtyard. Xander chugged along in front, Gunn just behind. The Master had one of their own. And that was not happening on Xander's watch.  
  
They ran through the house at break-neck speed, skidding into the loose stone of the courtyard to swing by and collect...  
  
'If the Master had Tara, and Tara was with Cordelia...' Xander suddenly thought.  
  
A few more careful steps into the courtyard and the full impact of that thought hit him as he came into the moonlight.  
  
Xander stopped dead, his hand slapped over his mouth, eyes wide with fear and anger and horror. Gunn looked at him for a moment before cautiously stepping up next to him.  
  
"Oh God."  
  
Xander dropped his hand from his mouth and ran towards the girl, as Gunn spun to try and locate Angel and somehow, someway, prepare him for this. The Vampire was just running out of the house, Wes at his side, and coming straight at the courtyard.  
  
"Xan, she...?" Gunn asked, his back to the sight.  
  
Xander could feel the tears well as he knelt in the blood next to her body. With a shaky hand, he tentatively dropped his fingers to her neck and turned it, looking for bite marks.  
  
Nothing.  
  
All this blood. And he didn't even take her.  
  
"Dammit, Xander. Is she...?"  
  
Pressing down on her neck, Xander closed his eyes and prayed. Prayed for that thump, thump, thump that kept them all alive. That he listened to every night as he laid his head on Takina's chest. As he listened to River in peaceful sleep.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Xander pressed his fingers harder. He heard Gunn intercepting Angel and Wes, trying to prepare them for what was behind potted plant number three.  
  
Nothing.  
  
Pressed a little harder.  
  
Thump.  
  
Too long a time.  
  
Another thump.  
  
"Gunn! Help me! She's alive, but she's... Oh God."  
  
"She?" Angel asked, looking around Gunn. "She?" A sudden realization smacked into him as he watched both Gunn's and Wesley's faces become solemn.  
  
With a shove, Angel pushed Gunn out of the way, searching beyond him until he saw Xander crouched in a pool of blood.  
  
"Xander?"  
  
With a start, Xander turned and stared wild-eyed at the Vampire. "We have to help her...."  
  
Angel's eyes dropped to the ground and saw her, spread out in a pool of crimson, her dark hair matted and her pretty eyes closed.  
  
"Cordelia..."  
  
To be contd. 


	39. Hope for Salvation

Hello, all.

Well, bring on the angst. For once, it's not Buffy or Spike, but I think it'll hit home nearly as hard in the context of this story.

It will be okay in the end. At least mostly so. But I cranked the action, and the pain, up a notch in this (rather short) chapter.

Hopefully, I'll have more to you next week, RL permitting.

Enjoy ... and feedback fuels the Muse.

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: Hope for Salvation (Chapter Thirty-nine - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Spike is forced to leave the realm of the Sky Queen unexpectedly. Willow readies herself to do battle against the Master. Buffy prepares to defend her family. Wes, Gunn and Xander rush to help. And Angel tries to save Cordelia....

Hope for Salvation

The Sky Queen paused a moment, her elegant head tilting as if she had stopped suddenly to listen to the world around her. The rest noticed, not hearing anything, but sets of eyes darted around the landscape, trying to see what the Queen was sensing. By the look on her face, it could not be good.

"Would you like me to take them, madam?" the winged horse said solemnly as he drew himself up from his knees and spread enormous wings to either side. "It will be dark now, and..."

"No," the Queen answered. "My emissary.... Emma can find her way back."

"S'there a rush?" Spike asked, still holding the quiet child against him, his eldest daughter pressed to his back and Joyce standing next to them, trying to soak up the feeling of family she had missed for so long.

The Sky Queen nodded. "The portals of Hell have opened into your world. An evil stranger has captured the most innocent of your warriors and another..." The Queen's eyes dropped... "Another will soon make her home with us without the last choice being made."

"What?" Spike asked, tensing. "Earth languages, please, Love."

The Queen looked over at Spike. "The future is not yours to know. But it is time you went home. Your family is in danger. "

Forcing himself to be gentle despite his fear, Spike slowly lowered the little girl onto the ground, crouching down next to her. "See you soon, Pet. All right? Seems we've got a little work to do before you come to visit. That is, if you want to, Pet."

The little girl looked at him again, all wide-eyed innocence. "Think I'd like that," she finally whispered shyly. "Very much."

Spike shot a glance to the Queen who nodded. "She will be prepared, Spike. But now it is time to do your duty."

With a sharp nod, the Vampire looked quickly at Joyce, watching her sad, sweet eyes say goodbye. No time. He leaned over, placing a kiss on her cheek. "You're always with us, you know that?"

She nodded once. "I know."

"Thank you," he whispered, grabbing Emma's hand, taking one last look at the scene, and setting off at a jog across the brown sugar soil.

"We need to get her to a hospital."

"No time."

"Can't do anything here."

"Maybe Takina...."

"It's closer."

"In all honesty, I believe we'd be best served in a medical facility..."

"Wesley, shut up. No time. We need to..."

"Takina."

"Can she help?"

"I don't know. She's... she's lost a lot of blood."

"Man, this isn't good. "

"Angel?"

"Angel?"

"Angel?"

The dark Vampire knelt beside his fallen girl, watching the red spread out to the sides. Would she want that? Would she be the same? He could hear her heart slowing with every second ticking off the clock.

No doctor could fix this. It was too late.

But he could.

Would she want this?

Could he find a way to keep her soul?

With a huff of effort, Angel leaned down and scooped the blood soaked girl from the ground, cradling her against him. His face stung. Tears. He'd forgotten what those felt like, even though he'd probably cried a lake in his life.

"Wesley," Angel said quietly, seeing that the other two were still quite irrational. Things suddenly seemed very clear to the Vampire. "Go. Stop the Master and retrieve Tara. I don't care how you do it, but I'm betting that Spike will be back in time to help. Once it's under control, I want you to bring both Tara and Willow to me, unharmed." He paused, thinking of a safe place. "To Spike's crypt. I need them before sunrise. Do you understand?"

Wesley quirked an eyebrow at Angel. "We need to help her," the mystic said quietly.

Angel nodded once more. "I'm going to get help for her now. Okay? But you need to stop the Master. And you need to bring the girls to me. Promise me, Wesley."

With a nod, Wes gave his consent. Wisely, the other two men kept their mouths shut throughout the quiet exchange, afraid Angel might break into a thousand pieces were he questioned in any way.

Besides, if any of them wanted the prom queen to survive, it was Angel. They all loved her in their own way, but the Vampire had the most to lose.

"Go," Angel stated quietly, then disappeared into the dark, his love clutched against his chest.

Willow took up her position on the sidewalk of the darkened street, steeling herself. She didn't much care anymore if anyone saw her for what she was. She was a Witch, and if the eternally blind folks of Sunnydale did see her in action, well, they'd likely forget about it by morning.

A look up and a nod to the moon and she began to draw power. Summoning it around her like a shield and a weapon. No one was taking Tara. No one was touching Buffy. No one was going to stop what they had started.

No one.

Ever.

Wind whipped up and Willow could feel it building. She could feel everything more intensely. Including the hole in the fabric of reality exposing Hell to this world. Or the other way around.

Had to be Luke and Gwydion.

Which meant that Spike had succeeded and they were pissed. Great. Another bunch of evil cartoon characters to contend with.

But Spike would be home soon and that would free her up to help....

With a jolt, Willow was knocked back to the sidewalk, and then lifted up into the air, suspended above the ground in a vise-like grip. Focus, she thought, trying to use the power she'd built to break free. Focus.

A dark figure came into her view, standing above her, looking down and smiling. "You may be powerful, little Witch," he hissed, dropping a cold hand to her face and caressing, "but you are still a novice."

With a crack, he let her fall to the ground, her head thudding against the sidewalk and the lights, suddenly, going dark.

Buffy felt it more than heard it. A presence entering her house. Her sanctuary. One that didn't belong.

A glance downward showed her daughter and Spike still unconscious, breathing slowly, deeply, in unknowing slumber. Willow had presumably left when Buffy told her to.

It was up to her.

With a put-upon sigh, Buffy pushed herself up on her good arm, holding the broken one against her, and slid quietly from the bed. Weapons, she thought, grabbing a stake from the bedside table and tucking it into her jeans. A helm axe would be nice, she thought to herself, but unavailable -not to mention unrealistic, with only one arm to balance and move.

Again, without hearing, Buffy sensed the padding of feet up the stairs. Thump. Thump. Thump. In rhythm with her heart. The waiting was the worst. Once the battle started....

A pause while the ... thing... thought about its next move. Buffy used the time to position herself between the door and the bed. No one was touching her family. Not this Master. Not any before. Not any after.

A fleeting thought of what must have happened to Angel and the others crossed her mind. No. Not now. Later. Can't think about that now.

It seemed like an eternity between the time the creature had finished climbing the stairs and when the knob turned. No grand entrances for this one. No wind gushing through and exploding the door into splinters.

Just a slow, long turn of the knob.

An eternity to wait for battle.

Wesley jogged down the street, Xander and Gunn following. No one spoke. This was getting all getting too surreal and too much was happening at once. The Master had Tara. Willow was getting all magic-ed up. There were two houses full of people in danger.

And Cordy.

For once, Wesley had a clue what Angel had in mind, but his rational brain chose not to think about it. Chose to think that Angel would rise above his baser instincts and keep her alive until help could arrive.

But part of him knew differently.

Still, there was no arguing the point. Not with so many on the line. They could argue after....

Don't think.

The goal was to stop this Master Vampire. To protect the many. Then save the few. That had always been the goal. Always been their credo, however painful it had been at times.

Protect the many.

Hope for salvation.

Angel kicked open the door to the crypt where Spike had lived before their lives had all taken the most surreal of turns. Still, it was the mark of the true Master Vampire of Sunnydale and had to be kept up for appearance's sake, although Angel really didn't want to know what the dark, candlelit room was used for these days.

Slowly, he made his way to the stone shell of a sarcophagus and laid Cordelia down, her hair spilling out behind her and a dark red stain spreading far more slowly from underneath.

"Cordy," Angel whispered, brushing her hair back from her face and watching her become paler, less alive, by the moment. "Tell me what to do, baby. Tell me."

She lay quietly, her eyes closed, her heart thready and slow. So slow. Tonight, she had no answers.

"Cordelia, they can't save you," Angel whispered, his palm on her cheek. "It was too late when we found you. Too much... blood."

The Vampire's stomach roiled, thinking of a day when such a sight would have been true bliss. Now, hearing the last ticks of his lover's heart, the sight of it made him want to vomit.

Tears began to streak his cheeks. "I don't want to lose you. I'm not ready to lose you," he began, rubbing his thumb along the line of her jaw. "And I don't want you to hate me."

He could hear her retort in his mind. 'I'll never hate you, you big dumbass'. Then the quirk of her eyebrow, wondering what he'd do next.

Angel slid onto the sarcophagus, sitting next to her. "Tell me what to do," he whispered, taking her cooling hands and pulling her upright. "Tell me what to do."

But Cordelia had no words left.

Angel listened to her heart thud slower. Slower. Slower.

Tears choked him as he drew her against him, wrapping his arms around her blood soaked back, kissing up the warmth left in her skin. Knowing that no feat of medicine could save her from this. No technology. Nothing short of magic.

And him.

"Please tell me," Angel whispered, praying, hoping that Willow could pull another Thessala move. Banking on it.

But there was no answer.

"I love you," Angel whispered, brushing her hair to one side and burying his face into her neck, smelling the scent of shampoo and perfume. "I love you."

With a needless inhalation of breath, he brought his true face to the fore and sunk his fangs into her neck, tears streaming down his cheeks as he drank. Fumbling in his pocket for a knife, he slit his own wrist. He laid her down, still drinking, feeling her heart slow. Slow. Slow.

Just before it ceased, he brought his wrist to her lips.

To be contd.


	40. Missing Tuesday

Hi, all!

YAY! On time! What's next? Actually finishing the story?

Drama is coming to a peak, but I think I'll make you wait a bit longer on the fate of our dear Cordelia.

Hang on to your hats!

And remember, feedback fuels the Muse!

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: Missing Tuesday (Chapter Forty - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Xander and company make it back to the house just in time to find Willow. Buffy and the Master come face to face.

Missing Tuesday

It all came together in a flash.

At least, that is what it felt like to Buffy.

A shift in the very fabric of reality. Then again, knowing their lives, that was completely possible. Energy filled her as she waited for the knob to turn. Spread through her like white lightning as the air filled with static air and the sky ripped open and flooded her with light.

At least, that's how it felt.

Screams from outside. Men, she thought. Familiar. The pounding of feet. The staccato rhythm of more than just her heartbeat.

A black stain on reality that she couldn't quite identify. And the stench of death.

"Will!" Xander screamed as they approached the lawn. The Witch lay crumpled on the pavement, surrounded by the fading effects of old magic.

"Damn, what is it with you people and accidents?" Gunn sniped, running towards the girl just behind Xander.

"Hazard of the Hellmouth," Xander answered almost casually. It would bother him later that tragedy seemed almost de rigueur to him.

Wesley arrived at the fallen girl first, dropping to his knees and sliding warm fingers to her neck. A strong, steady beat pounded under his fingers. He sighed with relief. "She's unconscious, but alive," the former Watcher called out calmly. "Smelling salts would be of assistance."

"Or Xander could just wave a 'pit over her face," Gunn chided, earning himself a mild punch from the Sunnydale native.

"She's okay?" Xander confirmed as Wesley began to right the girl, sitting her up against him and checking for injuries. Nothing but a nasty bump to the back of her head.

"It looks as though she had a slight collision with the concrete, but she should be fine in no time." As the words left Wes's lips, Willow stirred, groaning loudly as her body began to sense the aches of the flesh.

"Tara," the redhead whispered, rubbing the back of her head. "Tara."

With a knowing nod, Xander darted off towards the house, scanning the lawn as he went. Something told him that the Master would not have taken the girl inside. Too much of a liability with that much power. Sometimes that old military stuff in his head came in handy.

Instead, he ducked behind trees and shrubs, thinking, knowing, she'd be out there somewhere.

And he was right.

At the far edge of the front lawn, he found her, curled tightly into a ball and surrounded by a glow he wasn't sure he should be touching. But, being a child of the Hellmouth and therefore convinced he would probably, eventually, find out what touching it would feel like anyway, he reached towards the girl.

And flew back, landing on his backside on the grass.

"Uh, Wes?"

Wesley looked up from tending to the girl in his lap. "Yes, Xander?"

"I think there's... well... you know magic too, right?"

"Yes, Xander."

"Uh, with the force field, and the knocking you on your ass, and this one's all yours."

"Is she okay?" Willow groaned as Wes disentangled himself from beneath her and Gunn slid into his place, holding the redhead off the ground.

Wesley strode across the lawn to where Xander sat, watching the shy Witch begin to stir under what amounted to a spider web of light. "She looks to be, Willow. However, she's been subdued magically."

"What does it look like?" Willow asked, trying to sit up under her own steam and flopping back into Gunn's waiting arms.

"Looks like a web made of teeny Christmas lights," Xander answered, still not managing to stand again. Between the running and the fall, not to mention the fight that came before, the grass was feeling like a Sleep Number Bed at the moment.

Willow nodded, and grimaced at the sensation of the contents of her brain shifting. "Cut it."

"With scissors? Or... or like pruning shears?" Xander called back.

"Magically," Wesley groaned, lowering himself to a crouch a few feet from Tara. "All right. Do you know the source of the Master's power?"

"Not the source," Willow called back. "But I can tell you it's ancient. Probably European in origin. Try Ariadne."

"Are you two speaking in English?" Gunn asked. "Or is this part of the Hellmouth experience too?"

"No, because I don't understand it either," Xander called back. "I think it's like ancient magic speak."

"Oh, that," Gunn replied, absently stroking Willow's hair back from her face.

With a deep, steadying breath, Wesley began to chant in some language Xander could identify only as one he didn't speak. Which was almost all of them. Except English. Most of the time. And whatever demon swearwords his wife used when she didn't want Xander to know she'd lost her patience.

The web began to unravel as if giant, invisible shears were cutting the strings. It was slow, but it was unraveling all the same.

A crack of thunder and a flash of white light from inside the house drew all of their attentions, and with a surge of will, Wesley ripped the web, falling back to the grass as the girl inside stirred and awoke.

"Willow?"

Xander jerked his head towards his best friend. "Over there."

"Kids?"

That got Xander's attention. "Will? Uh, where are the litters?"

"Safe," Willow answered, not wanting to articulate the answer with what was going on inside. "Not here."

Another flash and the sound of wood cracking inside. "Uh, maybe we should...." Gunn began.

"Saddle up?" Xander asked, pulling himself up off the ground and facing the house that was nearly shaking under the weight of what was happening inside.

Willow stood, with some help from Gunn, as Wesley pulled Tara to her feet. "I don't know if I can...." Willow began.

"You're needed elsewhere," Wesley commented as he and Tara drew closer to the rest of the group. Thoughts of what Angel was going through, whether Cordy made it.... This Master didn't stand a chance against a pissed-off One, and Willow and Tara might be able to help in another way.

"Where?" Tara asked.

"Stop at the Magic Shop. Did Rupert keep, or obtain, another Orb...." Wesley began.

Willow gasped. "Is... is Angelus...?"

Wesley shook his head. "No, but you will need one. As well as any supplies you can find that will help in that endeavour."

"But, no Angelus?" Willow confirmed.

"No," Wesley answered. "You will be safe. But please, please trust me."

"Where do we go from there?" Tara asked, trying to sort her mind into a working state.

"Get everything you need and head to Spike's old crypt. Angel will be there and he will explain. He's waiting for you and time is of the essence," Wesley commanded, watching the girls nod and head towards the closest vehicle. If they were going to try to pull off something magical after the day they had both had, using their driving skills was probably the only way there.

"Careful, Wills," Xander called after, entranced by, and a little afraid of, the light show coming from the second floor of the house.

"Always," Willow called back, climbing into Angel's car. Keys in the ignition. Yeah, who'd steal it anyway?

Another loud crack from inside. "Shall we?" Wesley asked as Gunn leaned down for the helm axe he'd dropped when aiding Willow.

"No better time than the present," Gunn answered.

"Except for Tuesday," Xander chided, as they all started down the walk. "I've always liked Tuesday."

With a crash, as if the turning of the knob was just for show, the Master appeared in the room, shards of broken door splintering at all angles. Buffy ducked, shielding her eyes from the fallout, and turned her head to make sure no nasty piece of wood had embedded itself into her beloved's heart.

Did that still work?

Either way, he was okay and Emma was tucked behind him.

"Stupid trick for a Vampire," Buffy argued, straightening. "You know, with the severe wood allergy."

The Master reached up, lowering his hood to reveal a handsome, boyish face. Like an Eighties teen actor or something. Handsome and wholesome and completely unlike the kind of creature she thought should be wielding such power.

"Such things do not affect me anymore," the Master answered, humour in his voice as he looked down at the stake in her hand.

"Oh," the Slayer answered, a pang of fear nowhere near the size she thought it should be, clenching in her belly. Maybe the Hellmouth had finally jaded her.

The Master looked around. "I am Zahn, of the order of Carnelian. The eldest Master remaining on the planet. "

"Thanks for the intro," Buffy replied, stalling, trying to think of anything else she might have handy. Stakes might not work, but she had yet to meet a Vampire who wouldn't go with a good beheading.

"I've come for the Peacemaker and the Key. I sense that the latter is not here. For some reason, I cannot sense her at all anymore..."

"Go, Willow," Buffy replied under her breath.

"What was that?"

"Not here," the woman said out loud. "Sorry."

The Master nodded. "But I do believe that my prize lies right here. Silent as a lamb." He looked to the bed, eyeing Emma as a hungry wolf would size up prey. "She is still in her human form. Even better."

"We kinda like her that way," Buffy remarked. Damn. Where did Spike put that machete after patrol the other night?

"She is not truly yours, you know. You should not rue your parting," the creature began again, shucking his coat from his form and folding it neatly before placing it on a chair. Underneath, he was wearing simple, Vampire-ish attire. Black fitted pants. A black, matte shirt, buttoned to the high collar. Nothing quite as flashy as Angelus or as low key as Spike, but they all must have the same stylist.

Buffy let her broken arm rest across her belly in a protective gesture. "Well, a few months growing inside of me and a life and death delivery sort of beg to differ. She's ours."

"I'd forgotten what it was like to be human," the Master commented, pacing near the door. He shrugged, sighing. "Either way, she will leave with me. "

"No," Buffy answered simply. "Really, not."

Again, the Master sighed. "I don't see why you fret. You've another. Not to mention the child of shifting soul inside."

That got her attention. "What? How do you...? What do you mean?"

A chuckle was her response. "I'd love to see your reaction when you've been informed."

"Huh?" It was all becoming a little too much for her at this point. She was expecting an epic battle, not a chit-chat about her offspring. He wasn't about to tell her anything, either way. "Look, Zahn, you can creep me out all you want, but you're not taking Emma."

"The Peacemaker."

"My daughter."

"I'm afraid I am. And, without your mate, and with your... human limitations," he nodded at her arm, "you are hardly in a position to stop me."

The Slayer gritted her teeth. "Then I'll die trying."

"As you wish," the Vampire responded and took a step toward her, raising his hand.

A crack, and the air shifted. Two beings appeared in the corner. Buffy didn't have time to turn and look, only to take the chance and run at the Master, landing a perfect roundhouse and knocking him back into the hallway. The Master was stunned, but regained composure, scanning the hall and the doorway, trying to see what had happened. Buffy rushed again, barely hearing the second crack and the flash of white light behind her as she ran at the creature with all momentum behind her.

With a flick of the wrist, the Master pushed her back, magic crackling in the air. She reeled against the doorway, steadying herself as he advanced. With a flourish, he drew a sword from his belt.

That might work, Buffy thought, trying to formulate a plan to get it away from him before he decided that a skewered Slayer was the best Slayer. She ducked as he brought the metal down at her and kicked him back, trying to maintain balance with only one arm. But he was too fast, catching her bad shoulder and driving her to the floor.

Buffy rolled, swiping her feet under the Master's and bringing him to his knees, unfortunately, on top of her shins. Not good. He raised the sword again, aiming it at her throat as she thought wildly about how to get out from under him. How to get the sword away. How to protect Emma. Spike.

"No, you don't," came the welcome voice from above, and Buffy saw a hand dart out from the side of the bed and grab the wrist of the Master, twisting it until he dropped the sword. "Not nice to pick on wounded Slayers."

"Spike?" Her voice was full of relief.

"Hey, Love. Told you not to take him on alone."

A fearsome glare shot from her eyes to his. "Uh, not much choice, Sleeping Beauty."

He was silent for a moment, holding the Vampire's arm and scanning the room. "Love?"

"What now?"

"We've got another problem."

"What?"

"Noticed a portal from Hell opening recently?" Spike asked, pushing the Vampire back, allowing Buffy to wriggle out from underneath.

"So that's what it was!" the Master commented, still a bit taken aback by the surprise awakening of the other half of the One and the complete surrealism of this life.

"There was some noise," Buffy answered honestly.

"Bugger," Spike groaned, watching the two forms step out of the darkness. "Seems as though we've got company, Pet. " A pause. "More company."

"Hey, sweet pea," Luke chanted, waving at Buffy as she climbed up from the floor. "We've come for our girl – Emma."

"Emma."

To be contd.


	41. Fiftyfour Minutes

Good evening, all!

Another installment, for your reading pleasure. A little angst, a lot of action, and some fun arguing. Everything that makes the One, fun!

So, enjoy and let me know what you think!

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: Fifty-Four Minutes (Chapter Forty-One - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: A slew of things are going on in Spike and Buffy's bedroom, although none of them are of the fun type of naughty. Xander, Gunn and Wes arrive to save the day – or die trying. Willow and Tara make a gruesome discovery. Although not in this order!

Fifty-Four Minutes

"What do you think Wesley was talking about?" Tara asked as she and Willow sifted through a trunk in the upper level that Giles kept locked. Stuff that wasn't to be messed with except in case of dire emergency.

Willow suspected this might be one of those cases.

"I don't know, baby," Willow asked. Tara had heard the story of the first incarnation of the Scoobys' use of the Orb, so she knew what it was for, but with Wesley's reassurance that there was no Angelus, she couldn't fathom why they'd need it.

Tara began to slip some extra ingredients into her bag from the shelves. "You know, Willow, we're probably strong enough together now to bind Angel's soul..."

The redhead stopped her packing and looked over at her mate. "I never even thought of that!"

"Just saying," Tara answered, smiling shyly. "Life... er, unlife too, I guess... is always a little better with..."

"Some hot, sweet, lovin!" Willow completed. "Know what we need?"

"I have an idea," the shyer woman answered. "You think it's okay? I mean, we can ask his permission first."

"I don't think we'll need to."

"Willow?" Tara reprimanded, always on the lookout for lapses into abuse of power with her reformed lover.

Willow sighed. "I meant, I think it's implied, but we can ask. If... if the opportunity arises."

"Good," Tara answered, beginning her search again. "I still wonder what we need the orb for."

"Me too, honey. Me too."

Angel sat on the cold stone of the sarcophagus, her chocolate hair draped over his lap, her heavy head balanced on his thigh.

It had been fifty-four minutes since she died.

Fifty-four minutes.

Since he killed her.

The smell of blood was still fresh, but his stomach roiled it. The smell. He'd wiped her mouth after he'd fed her, hardly able to face what he'd done. What she'd have to do to still be with him. If that was even what she wanted.

If not, he wouldn't do to Cordelia what he'd done to Drusilla. Let her suffer on. He'd be stronger. He'd be like his grandchilde and take the responsibility to let her go.

Absently, he stroked that long, dark hair, watching skin drained of life pale even further, minute to minute. Feeling the last of her warmth seep into cold stone. Thinking of all the things she would miss. Days at the beach. Shopping on Rodeo at lunch. The race of her heart when she got excited.

But if he let her go.... Angel still couldn't fathom the thought.

He'd teach her. Teach her how to live like this. And she wouldn't have the knowledge of thousands of lives ended at her own hands because she'd never have to do that to survive. He'd protect her. Show her straight off the way that he chose – the way that Spike chose.

And the Witches were getting stronger. Maybe, one day, they'd figure out a way to let her sit on the beach on a lazy Saturday, or shop on her lunch break once again.

In the meantime, Angel hoped, Cordelia would want to still be. To still be here. To still be with him. To understand he couldn't let her go. He couldn't stop loving her. Not now. Not yet.

Not ever.

Fifty-four minutes.

With a skid, the three humans appeared in the bedroom door. What met them was a sight they hadn't quite expected.

Spike was sprawled over the bed, one arm extended and holding the wrist of the Master as one would hold the arm of an errant child. Buffy sat on the floor beneath the captured Master, a sword next to her, with an annoyed look on her face.

And an amused Hellgod and ... some other evil entity were approaching the bed with satisfied smirks on their faces.

Xander, being a little more in tune with how things worked in this end of town, scanned the room for something else. A small, blonde, something else crouched on the far end of the room next to the nightstand.

His heart sped up at the sight.

Spike shifted his gaze to the men in the doorway, catching Xander's eye and following the man's gaze. With a quick nod, Spike gave Xander his assignment, and then turned his eyes on the other two.

"Bit of help here?"

The words set off a flurry of activity, as if the pause button had been depressed, and the world began full-tilt. The Master leapt to his feet, pulling Spike into a forward roll off the bed. Buffy ducked down, reading the movements and taking her chance, grabbing the sword as she wriggled away.

Wesley and Gunn darted into the room, heading for Luke and Gwydion. In hindsight, Spike wasn't quite sure that the two humans had known they were about to enter battle with a Hellgod, even one as inept as Luke, but at least they'd be a distraction while the One dealt with the Master. A distraction hopefully smart enough not to get dead.

Angel would probably never forgive him if Spike let two of his Master's finest fall into the waiting jaws of death.

Have to make this quick, then.

As Buffy closed in on the Master, Spike noticed Xander leave the room quietly. Smart bloke, when he wanted to be. Vampire senses heightened, the blond could hear the adjoining bathroom door click open from the hall, and near-silent feet pad over tile to the door back into the bedroom closest to where Emma was crouched in the corner.

But then the battle drew him back.

A primal scream from Buffy as she heaved the sword one handed, amazingly balanced for having her other arm completely unused, and Spike tried to catch her as the Master pushed her back with a flick of the wrist. Stupid git with his unfair uses of magic. And Wes was tied up with the other two morons.

Plan B. "Give me the sword, Love," Spike whispered as she fell back into his chest. She glowered for a moment before he kissed the crown of her head. "Got two arms and have a better chance of knocking him back a bit. Need you to keep him busy so he can't blindside us with the mojo."

She nodded quickly and used her position against Spike to launch herself back into the fray.

Wesley and Gunn were meeting a similar fate as they set upon Luke and Gwydion. Luke had apparently been practicing his skills as a Hellgod and blew the pair back into the edge of the bed with palm held out and a word that neither understood chanted into the dead air of the room. Gwydion slid sideways around Luke and set off towards the corner of the room where Emma hid, watching the doorknob behind her turn slowly.

A crack of thunder and a blinding flash of white light stopped them all in their tracks once again.

"Oh, now what?" Spike complained, sword held high for a blow. "Whatever happened to ordinary battles?"

"Pardon me for interrupting," the Queen snarked back, although no body accompanied the sound. "I felt it only fair that if the darkness could intervene on behalf of their agent..."

"Oh, it's you," Spike answered, earning an eyebrow raise from Buffy. What? She couldn't hear it?, he thought.

"Thank you," she answered the Voice, putting an end to that theory.

"You are welcome," the Queen answered, the white glow extending, searching, finding its targets and effectively freezing them in place. "And thank you for giving Drusilla another chance. Poor, sweet girl."

With a pop, the Voice, the glow, and the Hellgods were gone.

The room was paused again for a moment while Wesley and Gunn panted from the exertion of trying to take on those way out of their league, Xander stood with the door cracked, reaching for Emma, Buffy glared at Spike in stunned disbelief, and the Master was too confused by the complete strangeness of this world to do anything but stand and stare.

"What?" Buffy finally asked.

Spike swallowed. "Think we have something else to deal with first, Pet," he croaked out, more afraid of the conversation to come than he was of the Master Vampire with a pocket full of magic.

"What?" Buffy asked again.

"Watch out!" Gunn screamed as the Master came back into the battle and realized his chances at the prize were growing slim. With a jump, the dark haired Vampire threw himself across the bed, laying out flat in order to get to Emma before Xander could get her through the door.

Xander saw the move, almost anticipated it, and threw the bathroom door open wide, stopping the airborne Vampire just before his prize. Emma screamed and Xander jumped over the body of the stunned Master, scooping the little girl up and beginning a flat run back out through the bathroom.

"One down," Spike whispered to himself as he heaved up the sword once again and began around the bed.

"What?" Buffy asked again, following him towards the stunned Master.

"Hard of hearing, Love?"

Gunn backed away from the scene, thinking how nice it would be to face down opposing Hellgods rather than to be in the middle of an arguing One. Wesley, on the other hand, began to speak, quietly, weaving a spell to neutralize the Master's magic.

"Don't turn this around on me," Buffy retorted. "Did the ... Goddess lady say what I think she said?"

"Battle, Love? Remember? Master Vampire after our daughter?" Spike reminded, hoping it would get her off the subject until he could gather his thoughts and possibly say goodbye to the rest of his family before she killed him.

"He's just laying there," Buffy shot back.

"Perfect time to behead him, Pet."

"Do it and get it over with."

"Oh, so now you want me to carry the sword?"

"Don't pull this Slayer versus Vampire, who's the stronger one crap on me."

"I did no such thing!" Spike retorted.

"You were gonna."

"Was not."

"Was so."

"Love, the One, remember? Shared strength."

"Drusilla?"

Shit, Spike thought. The theory that maybe she didn't hear was now out the window. "I'll explain, Pet."

"How?"

"Battle?"

"You ain't seen nothing yet." Accompanied by an angry glare.

"Uh, guys?" Gunn stated from his place in the darkened corner. "Think he's awake now."

Spike and Buffy spun in perfect unison. Gunn tossed his helm axe, Spike catching it with little effort and handing the sword to Buffy.

"Battle now, argue later?" Spike asked, as the Master rose with a look of murderous rage on his face.

"Battle now," Buffy repeated. "So dead later."

To be contd.  



	42. Bring Back the Light

Howdy folks!

Well, one crisis down, one to go. You'll see what I mean in a second.

Hope you enjoy the chapter, and, as always, feedback fuels the Muse!

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: Bring Back the Light (Chapter Forty-Two - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Tara and Willow discover why they've been called. Buffy and Spike take on the Master, with a little help.

Bring Back the Light

"Oh Goddess," Tara uttered as Willow pulled away from the curb in front of the Magic Box and headed the car towards the cemetery. Her face hardened, realizing what she felt she should have known ever since Wesley had ordered them away.

"What is it, baby?" Willow asked, instinctively reaching over and grabbing her lover's hand. Concern washed over her, feeling Tara's aura shift from one of mild concern to one of near desperation.

"Cor... Cordelia," Tara answered, switching into that stutter that now only reared its head when the shy woman was exceedingly nervous or afraid.

Willow raised an eyebrow and tried to focus on both the road and on Tara. "Cordelia? What about her? Where is she?"

"When we... at the mansion. We... Then the Master took me and I couldn't remember until now. She..." The jumble of words was almost as disconcerting as the shift in Tara's vibrations. It was chaos. Something Tara hardly ever felt, even in the direst of circumstances.

"Okay," Willow began again, trying to be as soothing as she could in the torrent of feeling. "Try to remember now, baby. It might help us when we get there."

Silence. Tara shifted in her seat and closed her eyes. "I know what happened. I... I know why... Why Wesley wants..."

"What?" The redhead asked, trying to remain as calm as possible.

"The Master. While Angel and the others were in the mansion, I was outside holding the protection spell. Angel told Cordelia to stay with me. Then something happened inside and I was concentrating and I felt blood."

"Are you hurt?" A reflexive question as Willow swiveled her head to look at her lover.

Tara shook her head. "It was Cordelia's. Then the Master took me and... I saw her, Willow."

A light bulb flashed above Willow's head and the pieces began to fit into place. "She was dying?"

A small nod from Tara. "Even if help came... there was a lot of blood."

"And no help," Willow whispered under her breath. "And you think...?"

"I think I know why Angel wanted Wesley to send us. And I think I know what this is for..." Tara said quietly, holding the Orb in her hands.

The Master began to glow, a livid red surrounding him as his face contorted into that of the Vampire. Buffy squinched her face at the sight.

"Bugger," Spike muttered, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end as the magic in the room began to gather. "Watcher?"

"On top of it,"Wesley answered impatiently, his eyes slitted as he forced his concentration into his own power.

"He's nowhere near as hot like that," Buffy sniped, holding the sword across her chest.

Spike turned his head, giving her his patented 'have you gone completely sack of hammers?' look and all she could do was shrug. "Well, he was kinda cute in a pretty boy sort of way."

"That," Spike began, raising the helm axe, "we'll talk about later. In the meantime..."

She nodded, bracing herself as the Master opened his jaws and roared into the room. Spike leaned forward, ready. Waiting.

"Watcher?" He called back impatiently.

A pregnant pause before he heard the quiet word... "Now."

With a flash, a pulse of white ripped through the room, breaking the glow around the Zahn and Spike pounced in like a jungle cat finding the perfect moment to capture his prey. Like an extension of the blond Vampire, Buffy dove in from the flank, keeping her back to the bed to keep her balance intact and give her a less hard wood place to land.

Even without the magic, the Master was old and strong and took little effort batting Spike back with a strong backhand, sending the axe clattering to the floor. Gunn dove behind them, needing to be in the thick of it but knowing he was outclassed from the get go. Still, with a skid across a throw rug, the human grabbed the axe and tossed it skyward, over a ducking Buffy and back into the outstretched hand of Spike.

Buffy rushed in, landing a near miraculous flying kick and knocking the Master back into the wall before she flipped back and rolled away. Spike would talk to her about that, too, later. With one arm already out for the count and his tot inside her, the flying stunts should be off the repertoire.

As the Master recovered and growled, throwing himself towards the scrambling Slayer, Spike decided now was not the time.

"Heads up," Spike called as Buffy rolled effortlessly out of the way and Spike swung the axe, catching the Master's shoulder as he moved with lightning speed. At least it was a hit. "Watcher?"

"Working on it," Wesley answered as the force grew again, filling the room with prickly static.

"Need your brain," Spike snapped impatiently, kicking out and sending the Master sprawling into a chest of drawers.

"Wood doesn't kill it," Buffy called back, righting herself and spinning under a kick by Spike, landing one of her own on the back of the Master's knees. "Don't think any of the normal stuff will."

"Good beheading should do the trick," Spike grunted as he again swung the axe and saw a blur as the older Vampire dodged out of reach, swinging a clawed hand out and catching the back of Buffy's injured arm.

"Ow!"

"Now that was uncalled for," Spike growled, his game face coming to the fore and the scent of his mate's blood making his own come to a boil. No one harmed his girl and got away.

No one.

"Watcher?!"

Wesley sent forth another pulse of light. "I need you to hold him off for approximately," he looked down at his watch, "seventy-five seconds."

"I've heard of anal retentive," Buffy snarked, catching the Master's jaw with a flying kick, flipping back using Spike as balance, and landing on her knees on the bed.

"Would you stop that, Pet?" Spike huffed, rolling his eyes and battering the Master with clenched fists. "Stay on the ground."

"Only way to get him."

"Good way to break the other arm. Not to mention...."

"I know, I know," Buffy whined, feeling the presence inside her. "She can take it."

"Let's not find out she can't," Spike answered, just as the Master knocked him to the side with a wicked right hook to the cheek.

"Hey!" Buffy shouted, distracting Zahn. "I like that face."

"What's in seventy-five seconds," Gunn whispered, watching Wesley watch his watch.

A small smile broke on the Watcher's face. "The simplest of miracles."

"Huh?"

Buffy swung with her sword, catching the Master across the chest and ripping his shirt to expose an almost oily black skin. "You know there are spa treatments for that kind of thing."

Spike rolled his eyes and waggled his jaw to make sure it was still attached to his face. "Love, I doubt that..."

"Look out!" Buffy called as the red glow returned and Spike was about to be drawn in. If it was anything like glowy red things she'd seen in the past, that was a bad thing.

Spike jumped back and Wesley shot one more pulse of white light into the room, neutralizing the dark magic. The Master roared, lunging at Buffy. Spike threw himself in after. The world became a blur of movement and sound....

Wesley strolled to the window, opening the curtains and sliding the window up, eyes still focused on his watch, lips mouthing numbers into the air. Four. Three. Two. One.

"Now!"

Spike and Buffy both looked at the source of the voice and smiled the same, wicked smiles. It was too simple. Too perfect.

The Master stood still, confused by the cessation of battle and the smiles of his combatants.

"Hope you brought sunscreen," Buffy quipped, launching herself at the Master's side, Spike doing the same in perfect synchronization at the other. They pushed forward hard and sent the Master flying through the bedroom window and into the first rays of morning.

With a hiss the Master saw it. The sun. For the first time in several centuries.

As he fell to the earth in a shower of dust.

"Now that just seemed unfair," Gunn joked, reappearing from a darkened corner of the room.

"Still say we would've beaten him," Spike contributed, panting a bit as he sat down on the bed, pulling Buffy along with him. "You all right, Pet?"

"Fine," she answered, craning her head to look at the claw marks on her shoulder. "Stupid Vampire."

"Quite," Wesley answered, the quirky smile still on his face. The smile began to fade as he remembered the other... situation... that demanded their attention. "But we have work to do."

Buffy looked up, annoyance on her face. "Hey, we usually get the post battle snuggles..."

"It's Angel," Wesley stated sharply. "Or, more precisely, Cordelia."

Willow closed her eyes and took a deep breath as she pushed the heavy wooden door to the crypt open. The smell of blood assaulted her. Not fresh. Not old. Blood losing its life. Blood already spilled.

Tara held her hand, following her into the darkness, a knapsack dangling from her free arm. "It feels..."

"Wrong," Willow answered, looking around the room. There was no light at all in the crypt. No sunlight, no candles. No nothing. Darkness.

"It is," Tara agreed, following Willow deeper into the grave.

"Angel?" Willow's voice was small. Strained. She heard a quiet choking sound in reply. Barely audible, it echoed through the stone of the crypt. "Angel?"

"I killed her," the broken voice answered, barely more than a whisper.

Willow turned her palm up and chanted a few words, creating a ball of artificial light and bouncing it up to the ceiling. "Tara said the Master did."

"She was still alive," the disembodied voice answered. "I killed her."

"She was dying, Angel," Tara whispered. "And I couldn't help...I... I'm sor..."

"I killed her," the voice answered again, choked with tears both shed and unshed.

Willow spotted them in the faint glow of the light she'd made. He was sitting on the sarcophagus, cradling her lifeless body against his chest, his face buried in her hair, rocking. "I killed her."

Slowly, Willow kept moving, the blood from the original injury coating the floor in a sticky sea of death. "No, Angel. You loved her."

"I love her," he repeated, rocking, his arms wrapped tightly around her small frame. "She doesn't deserve this."

"Did you..." Tara began as the two women made it to within a few feet of the pair, "Did she...?"

Angel nodded, understanding the question innately. "She doesn't deserve this. I... I can't... I won't let her... rise... if you can't..."

Willow nodded, watching him quiver and rock her, tears streaming down his cheeks. "How much time do we have?"

"Sundown tonight. How long has it been?" He asked, trying to look at the girls. Failing.

"It's just now morning," Tara answered soothingly, setting down her bag and crouching on the floor.

"It's been longer. It's been months. We were alone," Angel muttered. "No help. I didn't want to... I can't lose..."

"It's okay," Willow whispered, crouching down next to Tara but keeping a cautious eye on the unstable Vampire and wishing that Spike and Buffy were there. "We'll help. We'll try."

"She'll miss the beach," Angel whispered, kissing the top of her head and drawing her closer to him.

Tara felt her own heart begin to break, empathy filling her. What wouldn't she do to keep Willow next to her always? "You can take her when the moon's full. It's almost like sunshine," the quiet one answered, spreading out the contents of the bag, setting the orb in the center and building a circle around it.

"Not warm like the sun. She'll never be warm...." Angel answered, lost in his grief.

"But she'll still have you," Willow responded quietly, helping Tara set up the spell. "And us. We're down with the good Vamps."

Angel chuckled despite himself, closing his eyes and inhaling Cordelia's fading, human scent. "You can save her soul."

Willow looked at Tara. Tara returned the stare. "We can try, Angel."

"You have to. Please," Angel whispered, dissolving into tears. "Please."

"Just let us work and hold on to her. Remember her. Everything you can about who she is, and hold that, okay? It'll help us find her and bring her back," Tara counseled, lighting candles in the dim room.

Angel nodded, thinking of all the things he loved about her and all the things that drove him insane, and all the smart remarks and the kind words and the strappy sandals and the pointed barbs. Holding it. Cherishing them with equal weight in his addled mind.

"Please," he requested once more before closing his eyes and losing himself in thought.

With a nod, Willow and Tara closed the circle and began the spell.

To be contd.


	43. Scent of a Woman

Howdy, all!

Sorry for the stoppy and starty-ness of late, but real life has been a bugger. I did manage to squeak one out this week, although I know there will be no chapter next week. Sorry for that, but I'm going back East to spend my birthday with loved ones.

Hope you can forgive.

In the meantime, think up things Cordy might do to punish Angel!

Enjoy!

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: Scent of a Woman (Chapter Forty-Two - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Willow and Tara do their best to restore Cordelia's soul. Buffy is told of what likely happened to her her high school nemesis and sometime friend. Spike meets his new family.

Scent of a Woman

Once started, it seemed that nothing could stop the flow. Like blood from a fatal wound, the energy poured into the most unlikely place. Light from Heaven, gifts from the Goddess, swirling about the tombs and the body of a Vampire.

And now seeking the corpse of yet another.

Tara and Willow were one. Hands joined over lit candles, unable to feel the burn of fire as the light consumed them. Lost in a song that not even they knew completely. Words came to them that they had never found in their mortal states.

But they were not mortal now. They were part of Her. Doing Her work.

Angel held her and wept. Wept for the lifelessness of her body. Wept for the loss of her soul. Stared in wonder as the light tried to find her in the white mist surrounding them.

And roared in her pain and his own as it struck home.

Cordelia's body rose up from the sarcophagus, arching and writhing as the chant continued, head lolling, face contorted in agony. Light pierced her like the sword of God, skewering her mortal body and holding it feet above the ground. Angel reached for her, but his own body burned in the light. His body felt wrapped in fiery bandages, unable to move, to help, to make it stop before this finished her.

A scream changed everything.

The chant stopped.

The light vanished.

The Witches fell back to the floor in unconscious exhaustion.

And Angel dropped forward enough to catch Cordelia as she fell to the stone, still screaming in agony.

"So, Cordelia is..." Buffy asked, her voice trembling, as they rode in the back of the car Gunn guided down the streets of Sunnydale.

"If her blood loss at the scene was any indication, I would have to say yes," Wesley answered solemnly. "But she was alive when we left."

"And no one took her to the hospital?" Again, Buffy's voice shook both with confusion and with fear.

"There was no time for that, Blondie," Gunn answered. "By the time we would have found a way to get her there..."

Spike felt something. A snap, or a connection, or something that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shuddered, staring out the window of the speeding car in order to forget the feeling. To forget what part of him already knew.

"So, Angel took her to find help though, right?" Buffy asked, feeling Spike's discontent and adding it to her own.

The car was silent in response.

"He helped her, right?"

Spike turned to look at Buffy. Part of what he loved most about her was that, despite all the years of horror and bloodshed, she still believed in the goodness of the World. That there was help for every lost or damaged soul and that help, particularly if it was her or Spike, would always make it in the nick of time.

"Love," the blond Vampire began, "listen to what they're saying." His voice was patient and kind, not his normal drive-the-point-home sarcasm. With a gentle hand, he took hers and held it, waiting. "She was dying, Pet. Near death. Watcher here didn't even think that she'd make it to help in time."

Buffy nodded, feeling it, knowing it, but not wanting to admit it.

"He loves her, Pet," Spike continued. "One thing our line has in common, when we fall, it's for always."

"Everyday," Buffy whispered under her breath, tears beginning to pool behind green glass eyes.

Spike nodded his reply. "And he wasn't ready to lose her."

Again, Buffy nodded, staring out the opposite window and waiting for the tears to come.

The crypt was dark and quiet. The candles were gone. The Witches were still where they'd fallen when the spell had ended. Angel stirred atop the stone, feeling somehow different, but the pain still ate at him like a frozen dagger.

Cordelia lay sprawled over the sarcophagus, her legs dangling over one side, her head over the other, two fresh puncture wounds healing quickly on her neck. Driving it home to Angel. Making it real.

She was a Vampire.

Angel swore an oath to himself that, especially if the Witches had been able to pull off a miracle, Cordy would never know that life. She'd be the first Vampire who never fed to survive. She'd never know the blackness of being devoid of soul. She'd never have to suffer like Drusilla.

Like William.

If this worked.

If it didn't, she'd go back to Heaven where she belonged. And he'd be strong enough, this time, to send her himself.

The door creaked open, carefully spilling the sunlight in the opposite direction. Angel almost chuckled. Spike had a flair for interior design. He'd placed his bed so that, when Buffy crashed down his door in the middle of the day, the light wouldn't have fried him on contact.

It was no surprise that it was the other Vampire who came in first. Who else knew what the scene inside the crypt would be? Who knew that Angel wouldn't even fight if they tried to send him to Hell right now? He deserved it thousands of times over. But mostly for this. Especially if he'd taken away her soul.

Spike scanned the room and spotted them all. Two girls on the floor, hearts beating steadily in sleep. Two Vampires on the stone sarcophagus. No heartbeat. Only scent.

With a smile, Spike instinctively sensed something that Angel was too lost to recognize.

The smell of souls.

Not that Spike was even about to let his grandsire off that easy for this.

With a quick turn of the head and a reassuring nod, Buffy streaked into the room, running for her best friends on the floor. Checking them over without even sparing Angel and his love a glance. It wasn't that she didn't care, just that she wasn't quite ready... there was no way for her to deal with this yet.

Gunn and Wesley followed slowly, like pallbearers at a funeral, walking in and standing on either side of Spike. Studying the scene. Wondering what had happened and if it had happened in time.

With an indrawn breath, Spike stepped forward towards the sarcophagus. Angel growled, gathering Cordelia to him and backing against the wall.

"Easy, poof. No interest in your bird." Spike was sure Angel already knew this, but the bond between Sire and true Childer was strongest at the beginning.

Angel slipped into game face and watched his elder Childe approach. The growling continued, but was less forceful. More bark. Less bite. The other three humans stared at the scene in fascination.

"Pay attention, Angel," Spike commanded, chuckling to himself. "Use your bloody sense."

A cock of his head and Angel sniffed the air like a dog, and Spike stepped closer. "Bit different now, what with the One and being tied up with Buffy's, but...."

"Mine," Angel growled, looking at Spike with confused eyes, and then looking down at Cordelia. "Mine."

Again, Spike chuckled. "See you've made me a new auntie. Childer too. Don't do that for just anyone."

"Love her," Angel mumbled, staring down at her with yellow eyes. "Loved Drusilla. Loved William." Drusilla may have made William a Vampire, but Angel had claimed him as his own.

Spike nodded, knowing that somewhere in that sadistic mind of his, he did love those he chose to carry on the line. The love was intense and often brutal, but it was definite.

"Spike," Wesley's voice quietly asked, "is this... should we be worried about Angelus?"

The blond Vampire cocked his head and studied his grandsire with steel blue eyes. Sniffed the air. Watched the movements. "S'not Angelus. Just a traumatized poofter with something to protect. He'll come round."

"Is she...?" Gunn asked, a very Xander-like part of him wanting to believe that the inevitable hadn't happened.

"A Vampire?" Spike completed, seeing the mark on her neck. The one mark that the Vampire would never lose. "That would be a yes."

"Souls?" Buffy asked quietly as Willow began to stir beside her.

A nod. "Witches did well, Love. I feel two."

Gunn came over to help Buffy get the Witches up from the floor and onto the couch in the living area, as Spike watched over his grandsire and Cordelia.

"She risen yet, Angel?" Spike asked, taking another step closer. Angel tensed, but didn't growl again, allowing Spike to work his way over to the stone and lean against it, just in front of the huddled pair.

"No," was his nearly inaudible answer.

"Sundown, then," Spike responded. "She'll want to feed."

"She'll never feed. Not like us," Angel growled, so low that only Spike could hear it as more than noise.

With a nod, Spike understood. He remembered the room of graves that Luke had built for him in La Maison Rouge. What it felt like to gaze upon the thousands of lives he had taken to survive. No soul should ever feel that. "Then we'll need to find her something."

"No human," Angel responded.

Spike chuckled. "What? I'm taking orders?"

Another growl from his grandsire. "Can't know you're missing it if..."

"You've never drank of the chalice," Spike finished. "Right then, butcher shop it is." The blond took a step back towards the door and stopped, turning round to face his grandsire. "You want me to be here when...?"

Angel shook his head, returning to human features. "No, I need to tell her... I need to explain..."

"She'll likely kick your arse," Spike chuckled. "And you've given her Vampire strength to do it."

With an eye roll, Angel huffed as Spike spun on a booted heel and collected his troops to go. But part of Angel, just a part, wondered if he should have let his grandchilde stay after all.

To be contd.


	44. Chicken and Waffles

Howdy, all!

Okay, I think I'm back. Well, back enough. To all of you who sent along birthday wishes, many thanks! And my weekend was spectacular thanks to my family and a very good friend.

So, another installment. We're winding down, so I hope I can do this justice. Please note, I have the flu and hope my betas were able to cut through the nonsense and find the story inside. I thank them for all of their hard work.

I hope you like the story and please, feedback is welcome.

Enjoy!

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.DragonflyMoon(dot)net

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: Chicken and Waffles (Chapter Forty-Four - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Buffy finally corners Spike about their child's soul. Cordelia wakes up.

Chicken and Waffles

The crew stood quietly in the sunshine outside Spike's crypt, pondering the gravity of it all. Cordelia was dead. And now undead. The new Master was gone. The Sky Queen had subdued Luke and Draconius for now at least, and they were left standing, in flux.

Again, the world had almost ended, and again they were the only people who knew. What does one do after such an event, Wesley pondered? What do we always do?

"Anyone up for some chicken and waffles?" Buffy asked as they took their first steps up into the bright sunlight. Spike chuckled at his partner's one-track mind. Well, he thought, it actually has several tracks, but this one is one of its favourites.

"Think I'll pass, Mighty Mouse," Gunn answered, yawning and stretching. "I need a nap."

"We should check on the others," Wesley commented, a steadying arm still wrapped around Willow and Tara.

"Oh!" Willow contributed. "I kinda locked down the other house. We'd better go let them out."

Spike pondered, "How 'bout I take the hungry bird out for brekky and we'll meet you all back round in a few hours?"

The crew nodded their agreement.

Buffy smirked. "Good. It'll give us a chance to talk about Drusilla."

Spike's smile dropped.

Every clack as the fork hit the plate was like a cymbal crash. She was silent as she ate, staring down at the table in deep thought, a look of concentration furrowing her brow. As if she was thinking of what to say, or at least a way not to explode in the confines of a public diner.

Spike itched for a smoke. His hands patted his duster pockets as he sipped strong coffee and watched her. Waiting. Wondering if this apocalypse could be worse than the last.

Finally, the last scrap of waffle was cleared and she pushed the plate to the side of the table, taking a long draw of water and looking up at him. What he saw wasn't quite what he expected.

Confusion, mostly. A little sadness. A good dose of anger. And hope.

"You going to tell me what happened?" Buffy asked quietly, trying to rein in her myriad emotions and be logical for a moment.

"You really want to know, Pet?" Spike asked, breathing in sharply as if taking a draw from a cigarette.

She nodded. "Yeah, I'd like to know why you chose the soul of a serial killer, not to mention your ex, for our child."

Spike closed his eyes. The line was delivered flatly, so if anyone else around could hear, it would just sound like two lovers in a deep discussion. But the venom was there. The sting in the words. The anger.

A small shake of his head. "I didn't."

"Then who did?"

"S'not Dru's soul. Not the Dru you or I knew, at least. She didn't have one," Spike began, taking another sip of his coffee. "The soul is the human girl's."

Buffy nodded. "I'll give you that. But it doesn't explain why. There must have been a million...."

"Because," Spike interrupted, "as you know, a soul was already chosen. In order to reverse that, Pet, I had to make a new choice, then and there. I had to find a replacement, and the Sky bint handed me an option on a silver platter. Things started to happen down here and I had to make a call." Another long breath in and out from his imaginary cigarette.

Buffy was silent for a moment. "Whose was the soul?"

Spike cocked a brow. "Best left unsaid, Love."

"No," she insisted. "I need to know."

A long sigh as Spike decided that secrets were not what had gotten them through several years of turmoil inside and out. Another deep breath. "Buffy, you have to understand...."

"Who was it?" She asked again, in that same, flat, voice.

"Joyce," Spike whispered, inaudible to anyone but his mate. He stared at the table for a moment, watching ice melt in the glass of water. "Was your mum, Pet."

Buffy's head dropped and she stared at a spot on the placemat, her fingers toying with the edges. "She didn't want to come back?"

"Of course she did!" The Vampire responded, hand shooting across the table to find hers and take it into the safety of his grip. "Had a hell of a time convincing her to give it up. Only reason she did was for you. For us."

Tears began to well behind green eyes. "Why?"

Spike stood and walked around the side of the booth, sliding in next to her and wrapping an arm around her, feeling the weight of her head settle against his shoulder. "Because, Love, those hell gits got to her. Put a mark on her soul, one that'll fade in time, but it allows them to control her. She'd've come back to us and they could have made her do anything. Like hurt Emma or Will. Hurt us to get us out of the way. Can you imagine how she could have lived with herself if she'd come back and then...."

Buffy nodded, the tears beginning to escape. "She wouldn't have been able to."

"Right," Spike answered, putting his fingers under her chin and tilting her head up to place a gentle kiss against her lips. "And she didn't want that, much as she wanted to come back. Much as I wanted her to."

The Slayer looked up at him with child-like eyes. "Did she really want to come?"

Spike smiled, nodding. "That's all she ever wanted, Pet. To see you. To see Dawn. Even if it'd be you doing the ordering round this time."

She chuckled, thinking about the logistics of that. "Is she... okay?"

Again, he nodded his reply. "Sky Queen's taken a liking to her. Has her living in the palace with her and someone you know fairly well."

"I know?" Buffy asked, brow furrowed.

Spike smiled. "Little blonde bint who died back in high school to make way for a Slayer and her pet Vampire."

"Me?" Buffy asked. "How?"

"From what I can understand, when you died... well, one of the times... your human self actually did go to Heaven. The human part of your soul, not part of the One. What was left was...."

"Incomplete," Buffy answered. "Not human, not whole on its own."

Spike nodded. "Half of the One."

"And so I'm in Heaven?"

"Not you, Pet, but the part of you that was a child. The part of you too innocent to live the life you've been forced to live."

"I'm in Heaven? That's so.... weird."

"Try having most of you up there for over a century then coming round again as your son," Spike commented, chuckling and pulling her closer.

Buffy snorted, thinking of the sweet soul of William. William, her lover's first incarnation. William, her son. "This is all so ... weird."

"A bit of the obvious, Pet," Spike replied, taking a sip of coffee.

A pregnant pause before either of them spoke. "So, why didn't you just pick me, then?" Buffy asked, craning her head to look up at Spike.

He was silent, his fingers rimming the top of the white mug. "Few reasons, I suppose. First off, when I knew I'd have to leave Joyce behind, I didn't want to leave her alone. This way she still had a part of you to go home to."

Buffy closed her eyes, tears welling, wanting to see her mother. Remembering years of hugs and hot chocolate and late night talks and love. "I get that."

"And because that part of you is innocent, Buffy, it doesn't see, doesn't remember, any of the horrible things you've seen. Doesn't know this world can be ugly past bad clothes and algebra homework," Spike continued. "Think your heart has been through enough, without having to show that one part of you that's left what kinds of nightmares lurk under the bed. Selfish, maybe, but I want that part to be there. To be safe."

"In case anything happens to me?" Buffy asked, watching him try to hold back his own emotion.

"Something like that. Just need to know that part of you is always safe," Spike continued. "Even if the part I fell for is the hard headed bint who can kick the arse of demons thrice her size and thinks a trip to a cemetery is as normal as a trip to the mall."

Buffy chuckled, feeling the first of her tears escape. "Guess I lost some of the dainty along the way."

"And some of the snob," Spike continued. "But I love them all the same."

Another long, pause as they both thought. "So tell me about her. Tell me why you chose Dru," Buffy finally queried. "Is it because you miss her?"

Loaded question.

Spike thought for a long moment. Did he miss her? Did he have a right to, as he was the one who... sent her away? Some part of him did. She had given him this life, and accompanied him through close to a century of existence, showing him things that he'd never seen. Some of which he'd never wanted to. Some of them beautiful beyond all comprehension.

But most of all, she'd led him to the Slayer.

The wounds of her death, or lack of existence, were still fresh in his heart.

"S'a bit of a question, Love," Spike said quietly, his arm dropping from around her shoulder. "If I told you that I did, I think you'd take it wrong, as it's not for the reasons you think. But I can tell you I didn't choose Dru's mortal soul because of it."

Buffy looked at him for a long moment, wondering which part of that to tackle first. Did he regret.... Would he rather have been... ? "You do miss her."

"Sometimes," Spike began, hesitantly, "but not so much because I miss her company, more that as it's hard to say goodbye to someone you've loved."

She thought for a moment on that, remembering all of the goodbyes that she'd said in her day. All of the funerals, all of the people walking away, all of the helicopters, or at least the one, flying as far away as they could get. "I think I understand."

"She made me, Buffy. She was utterly sack of hammers, but she knew enough to know I meant something, and, for the most part, stayed by my side for a hundred years. And if she hadn't done those things, then we wouldn't be having this conversation," Spike finished, trying to be nonchalant as the thought of her disintegrating into dust by his hand tore through his memory. "If she hadn't been who she was, and done what she did, then there would be no One, there would be no Emma nor Will, nor the next in line. I'd have died before the turn of the century of some sickness or other, alone and untalented, with nothing to show but..."

"You were beautiful then," Buffy said quietly, taking his hand. "Remember, I met that you. We brought that you back."

"We did," Spike answered, hanging on to her hand. "But that me would never have met you."

Another tense lapse in conversation before Buffy thought of what to say. "So why, Spike? Why did you pick her? You said it wasn't because you missed her."

"It isn't," Spike answered simply. "To be honest, I don't even know that her. I never knew the girl before Angelus took her life and tortured her into insanity. I had heard stories of a wholly different person. Quiet and graceful and good. Not the Dru I knew. "

"So why?" Buffy pressed again.

Spike sighed, closing his eyes. "Because when the Joyce understood what was at stake, and chose, of her own free will, not to come back, I was left with having to choose another. The Sky Queen came down with this little girl and she was... She looked so alone, Buffy. So quiet and shy and alone."

"The Queen brought her to you?" Buffy asked, a bit incredulous.

"Brought her down on that great winged beast of hers," Spike continued, hoping the rest of the diner couldn't hear this story, lest they call the men in the pretty white coats.

"Winged beast?"

"Long story, Pet," Spike continued. "But suffice it to say, I felt that Queenie brought her along for a reason."

"Like maybe she'd be important to the fight?" Buffy asked, not sure what to make of it.

Spike shook his head. "Think it's the other way round, Love. Like maybe we needed to pay a little back. Maybe we'd be good for her. She had her life taken away in the cruelest of manners by my lot, and maybe it was time to make up for it."

"And give her the life she would have wanted," Buffy mused.

Spike nodded. "The one that the human girl deserved. So Emma and me... we made a choice."

"Does Emma know?"

"What doesn't she?" Spike asked, slyly.

Buffy chuckled. "And Emma said..."

"Emma promised that we'd take care of her. So I ...." He stopped, toying with the corner of the napkin placed under his mug. "I thought it was the right thing to do."

Buffy sighed, her hand over the growing bulge in her belly. "I'm not sure how I feel about it yet, but I trust you, Spike. I know you did what you thought was right."

"Doesn't always pan out that way, Love," Spike retorted, chuckling.

She giggled in return. "No, you and plans are still kinda non-mixy. But if you think you did what you were meant to do, and Emma was in on it as well, then I guess we get to try and show this one the life that she never got to live. And do our best to make it work."

He turned his head, studying Buffy's face before planting a kiss on her lips. "What happened to you?" He asked, lips still grazing hers.

She chuckled. "Grew up?"

"Anything I can do that will still get you mad?"

"Not take me home and love me like there's no tomorrow."

A lascivious grin crossed his face. "That I can do. By the way, is there a tomorrow?"

"We'll see after Cordelia wakes up."

Sunlight faded from the one small window at the top of the crypt, pulling back its rays across the stone floor until the room was nearly black. Only one rose-gold tip of light remained, dancing below the window like the flame of a candle flickering out.

Angel watched that pinpoint as it grew smaller. Smaller. Fainter. Gone.

He closed his eyes and waited, huddled between the sarcophagus and the wall, his beloved still cradled against his chest. Holding on to what was left. Holding on for what was to come.

A low, feminine growl started deep in her chest. A rumble. A purr. The feeling of lifeless life flowing into the limbs stretched out above him. With a blink, he opened his eyes, and stared down at her. Waiting. Watching.

Until coffee brown eyes flickered open, then snapped to amber under his gaze.

To be contd.


	45. The Huntress

Hello, All,

Sorry about last week, but I just could not shake the flu. Finally feeling half human, although completely stressed. Still, I managed to get a chapter done on time, thanks to my lovely betas.

Not much left to go and another story will end. But there's still a bit left to tell here.

Enjoy!

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.DragonflyMoon(dot)net

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: The Huntress (Chapter Forty-Five - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Cordelia wakes up. Spike tries to explain the implications of Cordelia's new life to Dawn. Angel tries to justify what he did to Cordelia.

The Huntress

Amber eyes flashed, glaring through Angel as if they wanted to tear apart not only his flesh but also his soul. She sat bolt upright, chocolate hair flying behind her like a flag, and spun, whipping her legs off the side of the sarcophagus and hopping to the floor in one blindingly quick movement.

Her eyes scanned the crypt searching for something alive. Something warm and moving. Something to hunt. Angel watched her, heart breaking at what he'd done. Knowing that bloodlust. Knowing that unconquerable desire for the kill. The blood. The flesh.

But there was nothing.

With feral grace, she spun back towards Angel and stared, her yellow eyes a mix of confusion and anger and lust and a little bit of sadness. Her mouth never opened, but she spoke volumes with just her gaze.

"Cordelia?" Angel asked softly. There was no way of knowing if she even knew. Or if she remembered, yet, who she was. And if she did, it was anyone's guess if Willow and Tara had been successful and restored that which made her who she had been.

The amber eyes dropped, looking at her body. Battered, bloodstained clothes. Red, scarred knife wound visible through a tear in the fabric of her blouse. Black boots scuffed and bloodied.

"Cordelia?" Angel repeated, as he slowly, so as not to cause alarm, shifted his weight and swung his legs over the side to face her. "Do you remember?"

She looked at her clothes again, and then at him, eyes still wide with every emotion imaginable. Suddenly, her face set in anger and she lunged forward, launching herself at Angel, a growl emanating from her pretty mouth.

Angel hopped off the sarcophagus just as she got to him and spun, grabbing her forearm as he rounded her and pulling it behind her back. "Not the first fledgling I've ever handled," he said quietly as he pulled her other arm to join the first.

"Blood," she whispered, her voice a harsh, arid sound.

He closed his eyes, trying to breathe. He'd made her into this. Made her a hunter. Made her crave that which kept the masses alive. No time for remorse now. It was time to teach her how to survive.

"Only the best for you, Cordy," Angel responded, half teasingly, as he pushed down on her wrists and spun her towards the other end of the crypt, where he'd stored the blood Spike had brought in the mini-fridge in the corner.

Leading Cordelia, growling and kicking, to the other end of the room was no easy task, but the pain was more emotional. Angel had not lied when he said that she wasn't the first fledge he'd broken. He remembered them all. Drusilla. Spike. There were one or two others, but the ones he would remember the most were the ones he took in as family.

Like Cordy.

Still holding her wrists in one hand as she twisted and bucked, Angel reached down and flipped open the fridge, grabbing a bag of blood. No time to warm it or put it in a container. Besides, ripping the plastic with her teeth might dull her aching desire to rend flesh with fang.

"Okay, so not the best, but this is what you've got," Angel stated, turning Cordelia to face him and holding the bag just in front of her face, still keeping her steady with an arm around her waist. "Feed."

She wanted to be angry, to tear herself away and beat her captor within an inch of his life, but the crimson blood hanging there, dangling in front of her open mouth, was too much to refuse.

Cordelia's lips parted in a grimace as fangs gleamed in the dim light of the cabin. She reared her head back and attacked.

They all milled around the kitchen of the Windsor house, some guests spilling into the den and dining room, all in a sort of haze. The battle was won. The Master was defeated, in a most anti-climatic way. This round was over and they'd won; or at least, that is what the One's report would mean to the Watcher's Council. Another battle in the bag for the Slayer and the Vampire of Heart.

But this time, the winning was bittersweet. Luke and Draconius were still alive, or whatever the equivalent state was for them, and were sure to resurface as soon as they had a new plan. Although she had been an enemy to most, Spike had been forced to kill his maker, someone he'd loved innately. They'd lost the chance at reclaiming one of their own when Joyce, to protect the rest, had refused to come back.

And then there was Cordelia.

"Do you think... is it going to change her?" Dawn asked, nibbling half-heartedly on a carrot stick as she sat at the island in the kitchen, watching Spike make a peanut butter sandwich for Will.

"Always does, Love," Spike answered, his voice hollow and distant.

"You mean, she won't be anything like... well, you met Cordy," Dawn pressed, turning the carrot stick over and over against her lips.

Spike sighed and turned. "If the Witches pulled it off, in a while, she'll be mostly who you learned to know and... be annoyed by, Love. But for a while, she'll be...."

"Lost?" Dawn answered, giving up on food and tossing the vegetable in the bin.

Spike nodded, cutting the sandwich and handing it down to tiny waiting hands. "Confused. Not easy going from one life to another. She died, Niblet."

Dawn nodded, trying to wrap her mind around it. "You mad at Angel for doing it?"

A chuckle escaped the Vampire's lips. "Peaches? No, not mad. Can't say he thought that one through much, but he loves her. Wasn't ready to lose her. Amazing what a man will do in the name of love."

"Like get a soul and turn into a PTA soccer dad?" The young woman chided, as her fiancé stepped into the room, wrapping his arms around Dawn from behind and earning a warning growl from Spike.

"Very funny," Spike replied, tossing a piece of cauliflower at Dawn and not-quite-accidentally hitting Brian instead. The newest member of the pack just rolled his eyes, knowing that Spike was always going to be this way towards him. And that it was because he loved his Niblet, which is something Brian could respect.

Sated for the moment, Cordelia let the empty bag drop to the floor and stood, dazed and full, in front of Angel. He watched her for a moment, the ridged features on her face nearly as beautiful as the smooth lines of her human visage.

"Do you remember?" Angel finally asked again, and Cordelia made the same visual sweep of her body, finally raising her eyes to his and shaking her head.

"Do you want to know?"

"Am I.... I'm dead?" It was more of a confirmation of what she knew than a question asked, but Angel saw the heartbreak behind it. Slowly, he reached down and took her hand, leading her to the couch in the center of the crypt.

Finally, once they were seated, he nodded. "You died yesterday."

Cordelia's head dropped and she studied her bloodstained legs. "How?"

Angel chuckled. "Being brave and stupid, like always." She stared at him, eyes full of tears, and he realized that she needed to know this. Needed to understand. "Protecting Tara so Tara could protect us."

Memories flooded back as events came through in jagged film reels in her mind. The mansion. The four men going inside. Knowing something bad would happen. Standing guard over Tara as she performed the spell. "The Master?"

"Dead," Angel responded, stroking the back of her hand with his thumb. "Spike and Buffy killed him this morning."

"But not before...?"

Again, Angel shook his head. "No. Not before he ... hurt us."

The memories kept playing.

"And the rest?"

"Everyone else is okay," Angel answered, knowing, now, that the girls had been successful. Cordelia's soul was there. No Vampire, not even Spike, would have thought about the welfare of others just after their first feed.

Cordelia nodded her response, her hand traveling to her neck. "I'm a Vampire."

Again, Angel nodded.

Her eyes grew wild as her hands studied the ridges and bumps in her face, pricking her fingers on her fangs. "Did he? That BASTARD!" She screamed, jumping up from the couch in a flurry. "The Master killed me and turned me?" The thought roiled her stomach that anyone had been that intimate with her. That brazen and rude and.... And it made perfect sense. What better way to take down another Master, take down Angel, than to bite and kill his mate.

"No!" Angel interrupted, watching her pace, clawing at the wound on her neck. "It didn't happen like that."

"How did it happen, then? Did he.... Oh God. Did he do anything else to me?"

Angel closed his eyes, trying to block out what she was thinking, knowing he had to set this straight. "No, Cordy. He stabbed you." Gently, he leaned forward, catching the tear in her blouse with his finger and tugging. "In the gut. "

Her hand traveled down, brushing his as she passed it, feeling the wound. "It's almost gone."

"One of the perks of being a Vampire," Angel responded, his finger tracing the healing scar. "But stabbing you is all he did. He left you for dead and took Tara hostage."

"Tara?"

"She's okay," Angel answered, letting his hand drop.

He was quiet for a moment, pondering on whether or not the truth was really any better than her fears. But she needed to know. She deserved to know why. "Do you want to know what happened? Really?"

Cordelia nodded slowly, wrapping her arms around herself as she paced, boots clicking against the stone. "Yes."

Angel swallowed. "We came out from the mansion and Xander found you," he began, watching her walk. "You... you'd lost a lot of blood. Wesley.... I.... we didn't think.... Cordelia, there was no way to..."

"Save me," Cordelia answered, hugging herself tighter.

Angel closed his eyes, the picture of her lying there in a massive pool of her own blood tearing his heart and mind to shreds. "There wasn't time."

With a quick nod, she gave her assent to move on.

"I sent the others after Tara and the Master. They needed to help Buffy and Spike and take him out to ..... It needed to have a reason," he finished, his eyes welling up. She stopped her pacing and looked over at him, watching his head drop as he spoke.

"What did?"

"You," he answered, his voice choked. "I wanted to kill him, Cordy. Rip off his limbs and shove them down his throat...."

"Nice graphic."

"He killed you," Angel finally said, looking up at her with wet eyes. He studied her a moment, watching her hug herself, her hands playing restlessly with the fabric of her torn blouse. His head dropped again. "Actually, he didn't. I did."

A silence fell over the crypt as the pieces of the puzzle all fell together in a terrifying picture. She knew him. Knew how he thought. Knew how he worked.

They had found her. He knew she wouldn't survive. He sent the others away and brought her here. And as she lay dying, he did the only thing he could to save her.

Made her a monster.

"You did this?" Cordelia asked, her voice barely a whisper, but to new ears, sounding like a roar.

Angel lifted his head again and nodded.

Anger flooded her, and, strangely, a wave of relief. It was he who had taken away her life. Who had been that close. Who had been with her when she died.

But he also took away the only thing she knew.

"You .... This was.... You thought this was a good idea?" Cordelia asked, recovering herself and pushing the relief down for a moment. "Making me... This?" Her hands gestured at her ridged face frantically. "This was the right thing to do?"

"I..." Angel began, watching her muscles tense in anger. "I couldn't lose you..."

"Selfish, much?" She screeched. "Did you ever think that maybe I'd rather be dead?" Even as the words left her lips, she felt them to be untrue. She didn't want to be dead. She didn't want to be a Vampire much either, but of the two options, this one was definitely a plus. And the Vampires she knew, although annoying and really far too quick to make decisions, were pretty good people. Or pretty good undeads, or whatever.

Again, Angel's head dropped. "I didn't know.... I couldn't think.... I..."

"So you sucked the blood out of me, made me drink yours and hoped for the best?" Cordelia shouted, not willing to let it go this easily. "Was I a tasty treat, at least?"

His head shot up and his eyes stared at her in horror. "You don't actually.... Cordelia, the last thing I was thinking was dinner."

"Oh, really?" She answered, beginning to pace again. "Funny how you didn't even bat an eye before turning me, then."

"Because you would have died, Cordelia. In the permanent, non-Buffy kind of way. Gone. Forever. I couldn't bear that. I need you. And I owed you the chance at this, rather than..."

"What? Hell? I may be a bitch, but I might just have made it to Heaven," she shot back, hands on her hips as she paced, thinking on that. She wasn't that bad... usually.

"I was going to say oblivion," Angel responded, trying to cool his own raging emotions. "I promised you, as you were.... Before you came back.... That I would let you go, I'd send you back.... If you hated me for this."

"Yeah, real smart, Angel," Cordelia sniped. "Uh, Vampire? No soul." Again, as she said the words, she found the lie in them. She felt.... She felt nearly the same, inside. Other than the physical stuff, at least. But she felt concern, care, love....

Angel watched her put it together, stopping the pacing and looking him in the eye.

"How did you do it?"

"I didn't," Angel answered. "Willow and Tara did."

"So I...?"

"Yeah. I wouldn't have done this if I didn't know that they'd be able to keep your soul."

"So I...?"

"Yeah."

"I'm me?"

"Not quite," Angel answered, finally standing to meet her. "You're a Vampire, Cordelia. Blood. Strength. Bad temper, although that shouldn't be too big a change for you."

"I can beat you up now, you know?"

"But yeah, the you inside is still you," Angel responded, ignoring the barb and walking slowly closer. "I can teach you how to survive."

"I've been taking care of your sorry ass for years now. I know how it works," she barbed back, feeling the anger deflate as he came closer, his eyes pleading for understanding. For forgiveness.

"Cordelia," he whispered, taking her hands from her hips and holding them in his own. "Know that I did the only thing I could think of.... I didn't want this for you. I didn't want to.... But I couldn't lose you. And, somewhere in there," he pointed at her chest, knowing that her heart no longer beat, but that it still felt, "I knew you didn't want to leave just yet."

She closed her eyes, trying to wrap her mind around it all. Knowing that what he was saying was true, but not sure how to make it all... understandable. "I don't want to die."

"Then let me teach you," Angel answered, lifting her chin with his fingers. "Let me show you how to live this way."

"I don't have to brood, do I?" Cordelia asked, fighting off a smile she didn't know she could still make.

"No," he answered. "I won't let you do anything you'd need to brood over."

"Great, a chaperone."

"No," Angel said again, lowering his lips to hers. "A mate."

To be contd.


	46. One Movement

Well, hello, all:

Here we are, at the end of another book. An Epilogue left, to give you a place to rest. But herein ends this story.

I will write my heart-felts, and my beta gushing, with the Epi, but I wanted to thank you all for reading with me this far. Without you, we wouldn't be seven books, and several series, into a story. Without your support, I would be less, both as a writer and as a person.

So, this is dedicated to all of you. Thank you for being there. Thank you for reading.

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.DragonflyMoon(dot)net

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: One Movement(Chapter Forty-Six - Meant to Be)

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: Spike and Buffy check out the mansion. Angel readies Cordelia for her reunification with her friends. And Spike still has surprises left in him, even after all this time.

One Movement

"Looks as though they're gone, Pet," Spike commented as he descended the stairway of the Crawford Street mansion and Buffy finished a round of the first floor. They'd scoured the basement together.

"What's wiggy is that it looks like they were never here," she answered, stowing her stake in the front of her jeans and walking across the marbled lobby to meet her love.

"Vampires have a way of not leaving a trace on short notice," he answered, hopping off the bottom stair and taking her hand. "Not a bad place, really."

"This one?" Buffy answered, squinching her nose.

"Could use some paint and ..."

"Fumigation...."

Spike grinned. "But it would be a far better headquarters for world saving than our humble abode."

"I like our abode," Buffy shot back. "You've been talking, no listening to Xander, haven't you?"

"As though the whelp could convince me," Spike scoffed, leading Buffy out the front door. "But I've a far better idea."

"You ready for this?" Angel asked, standing with his hand on the front door of the crypt and looking back inside. She was redressed now, in clothes that one of the other girls must have left behind. Dawn, from the look of things.

He'd found the shower and helped her clean off the blood. And he cried as she mourned the loss of the only thing left of her humanity. Her own blood. Still, though, she had her soul. She had that bit of her that made her Cordelia, and despite the anger and the tears, somewhere inside, Angel could tell it was really still her.

"I don't know," Cordelia finally answered, arms wrapped around her waist and staring solidly at the door. It hurt to look at him still.

"Cordy, they aren't going to judge you... Me, on the other hand...."

"Spike's going to kick your ass," Cordelia commented, a hint of a smile pulling at the corners of her mouth.

"He would have done that anyway," Angel chortled, opening the door a little wider. "Remember, Cordy, these people .... I know how hard this is for you. Believe it or not, I remember that. Granted, I wasn't a model human being to start with, but I still remember feeling... lost. But you're not walking into a lion's den where people are just going to judge you for what you are. "

"I know," Cordelia answered. "I just feel... stupid."

Angel quirked his brow. "Stupid? For what?"

"Dying."

With a sigh, he walked from the door to the center of the room, taking her hand in his. He thought for a moment, studying her face, his other hand rising to trace the contours of her cheek with his thumb. "Happens to the best of us. And most of us, not so nobly."

"I'm noble?" Her voice was childlike, almost.

"Hey, you died trying to protect us. I'd say that qualifies," he answered, gently leading her out the door.

She straightened, trying to find a new way of looking at it. "I'm noble. Wow, who'd have thought it?"

As he led her out the door, he answered. "I did."

It was almost like old times. Well, plus a few faces, but the theory was the same. Buffy's house, packed with people, some hovering over books or laptops, some snacking, some chatting in corners. The kids, all of them save Emma, were temporarily stowed in beds upstairs. The Hellmouth may be a crazy place, but bedtimes were bedtimes and they'd all had a hard week.

Buffy and Spike looked around the packed house from the doorway, thinking. Surveying. Spike had been right. The One had become a force, rather than just a pair. A small army fighting against the end of the world or the hostile takeover by forces not so interested in preserving life as they knew it.

The One had become a movement.

Over the years, more and more had been drawn into their ranks, by love, by birth, by conscience. And the walls of this house were no longer big enough to contain them. It was their responsibility to lead them. Their responsibility to protect them. Their responsibility to make the choices that would preserve, and give the advantage to, the white hats.

Spike had been right. Strategically and figuratively, it was the right move.

With a deep breath, she nodded.

He squeezed her hand and let go, walking off to search for Xander. Buffy walked in the opposite direction, putting on a smile and greeting her troops as family.

They were, and always would be, her family.

"Any sign of the bumpy brigade?" Willow asked as Buffy found a seat on the couch next to her closest friend. Emma crawled into her lap and settled her head against her mother's chest.

"Looks like they ran," Buffy answered, sighing and settling back into the couch. "How's everything here?"

"Well, Wesley and Giles have been searching through some of the codexes for information on Luke and Draconius. I mean, not much on the net. At least not yet. I keep telling them they need to scan all those dusty books and make them accessible to..."

Buffy chuckled. "Why do I think we'd get a lot more done if you were the head of the Council?"

"Because we would," Willow answered, grinning. She was silent for a moment, smile fading. "Any sign of .... Did you see...?"

"The newest creature of the night?" Buffy asked, pulling Emma closer, "No, not yet. I'm sure that she'll come when she's ready."

"Do you think...? Did Angel do the right thing?"

The Slayer sighed. "I don't know if there is a right in that situation. I mean, I'd like to say that if it was Cordelia's time, we should have let her go. But it's not always that easy."

Willow's head dropped, remembering the times she wasn't willing to give up her friends to the great beyond. The lengths to which she had gone to stop that from happening.

"I think," Buffy continued, trying not to let her friend dredge up painful memories long past, "that he did what he thought was right. I can't say that Spike wouldn't have done the same thing in the same situation."

Willow's eyes opened wide. "Make you a Vampire so you'd be... wow. I don't even want to know what happens when a Slayer gets turned. Freaky."

"I don't either," Buffy chuckled, grabbing a cookie from the tray next to the table. "But when you love someone...."

"You do the wacky," Willow agreed, settling back into the couch.

"Much wacky."

"You're serious?" Xander asked, leaning up against the porch railing in the back yard. "You want to do this?"

Spike nodded. "Wouldn't, 'cept this place would go to a worthy successor."

"But the mansion?"

"You said you could fix it up."

"I can," Xander answered, taking a long draw off of his beer. "I mean, the place has the potential to be a palace. And I know the Council will bank roll it all since they sort of owe you and Buffy...."

"Once we explain the reasons," Spike corrected. "We can't exactly run an army from a suburban three bedroom."

Xander chuckled and shook his head. "Yeah, it's tight in there."

"And the masses seem to be ever expanding," Spike contributed, taking a pull from his own draft. "So, you'll do it?"

"Sure," Xander answered, visions of remaking all of that beautiful stone and wood into what it probably once was – an elegant tribute to design. "I can draw up the papers on Monday. The house is owned by the state since it's been abandoned so long. I'll make a call from work and you can probably get it for a song."

"Thanks," Spike answered, thinking of the changes that were to come. Now all they had to do was talk it over with the other party involved. A gift that neither of them would be expecting.

There was a long pause as the two men stood on the back deck, looking out into the starry night. "You seen Cordelia since ...." Xander finally asked.

"No," Spike answered. "Not since she rose. Angel will want to ... train her a bit. "

"Train?"

"Not in the way he disciplined me, or Dru, for that matter. Got a soul now, the ponce. But he'll want to lay down the rules. That, and clean her up a bit," Spike answered.

"He disciplined you?" Xander asked, genuinely curious now.

Spike turned towards the man and looked at him as if he'd grown another head. "Course he did. I was his property. Could do whatever he pleased, really."

"Hard to think of you taking it," Xander answered, a bit ashamed for opening this particular can of worms.

Spike sighed. "You don't know much when you first rise. Just feed. And, o' course, the fists and fangs bit. S'like being drunk at a bar. Just want to drink, eat, fight and find a woman."

"And Angel taught you not to do that?"

The Vampire laughed out loud at that one. "Angelus? No, he encouraged it. Only he wanted it done on his terms and he got them all before we did."

"Dibs?" Xander asked.

"Wolves," Spike responded. "Alpha gets the good bits, and the pack gets what's left. In Angelus's mind, that's how we learned."

"But not in Angel's?"

"Different, now, innit? He has a soul. She has a soul. There's reason involved. Morality. Guidance above and beyond what we had then." Spike took another long pull. "Besides, he loved her before. No reason the poof would do anything but love her now. She's just his... consort now."

"Consort?" Xander asked, intrigued.

Spike nodded. "Mate. Partner."

"Like Vampire marriage?"

Another chuckle from the blond. "A bit. More blood involved."

Xander danced a little shivering jig of disgust. "Ew." A long pause. "Is Buffy....?"

"Bit different still," Spike explained. "The joining was more complete than that."

"The One thing?"

Spike nodded.

"But you..."

"Yes, if we were both Vampires, she'd be my Mate. "

Another jig from the Human. "She let you do that?"

"We didn't much have a choice, but yes," Spike answered.

"Gah!"

A ruckus from inside, followed by silence, drew the men's attention back indoors. Slowly, they crept in the back door, not sure of what they'd find inside.

Spike eyed Buffy on the couch as he reached the kitchen doorway. Calm but alert, their daughter held in her lap. She glanced back and nodded – a silent signal that all was under control. He returned the nod imperceptibly, and strode out from the doorway into the living room, Xander stopping by Takina's side.

Angel and Cordelia, looking tired and worn, stood in the entryway. She was hugging herself, picking at the lavender sweater that Angel had found for her, and staring self-consciously at her well-cleaned boots. Angel looked guilty and repentant – not that he ever showed any other expression.

Spike was the one to break the silence. He'd thought about every snarky remark, every snide barb that he could throw at his errant master, but Cordelia... she hadn't done this, and Spike knew that, especially with the souls involved, any ill thought out words would likely alienate her from the rest. Something she didn't deserve.

"Sire," Spike spoke strongly, bowing his head in a formal gesture of pack inferiority. Buffy's eyes nearly bulged out of her head watching Spike approach in such a submissive position.

But Angel understood. Until Cordelia knew, until she understood, what it was to be a Vampire, Spike would play by the rules. Internally, the dark-haired Vampire chuckled. Once that bit was over, Spike would pay him back in spades.

"Childe," Angel responded, his voice strong and clear despite wanting to cry or to scream. Spike stood in front of him, head still bowed. In reality, he should have knelt before his Master, but there was no way he would get that much cooperation from his eldest living Childe.

"You have extended our line," Spike recited from memory. He'd done this before, even though neither Buffy nor the others, knew of Angelus's other Childer.

"I have taken a Consort," Angel replied, making Cordelia's status within the line clear. She was not to be treated as a fledgling, but rather as a Queen.

Spike nodded. "A worthy mate."

Angel nodded, taking Cordelia's hand and holding it out to Spike. Spike leaned forward, kissing the back of her hand.

"She will be respected."

Again, Spike nodded. "She will be welcomed into the Order." He thought for a moment and then raised his head. Not quite part of the ceremony, but this was not an ordinary situation. Spike trained blue eyes on his Sire, and then on Cordelia. "She will be welcomed into our home, and our lives, as you see fit, Sire."

Angel shook his head, chuckling. Leave it to his wayward Childe to find the words to make this okay. For all his bluster and bravado, Spike knew when to find the right phrase, to say the right thing. The dark-haired Vampire looked at his mate, her eyes teary and afraid. But she smiled at Spike's words, looking him in the eye and then scanning a room full of familiar faces.

Funny how everything changes in the blink of an eye, but some things always remain the same.

"Cordelia," Wesley breathed, knowing that the formality had ended. He walked to her and hugged her, pulling her into his embrace until she understood that they would all still love her just the same. One by one, the others followed suit, finding a way to make this horror all right.

Then again, that's what they did. They made the nightmares go away. They made the world all right again, despite the monsters under the bed.

She found him on the bottom step of the back porch, hands clasped between his knees, staring up at the stars.

With a click, the kitchen door shut behind her and she walked quietly to him, sitting down at his right without a sound.

His hands unclasped and one found hers, enveloping her tiny palm in his. Winding their fingers together in a show of strength. Of love. Of unity.

Of Oneness.

She was quiet for a long moment. "What you did in there was..."

He nodded, breathing in the night air. "It was the right thing to do."

"You gave her back her dignity," Buffy answered, tightening her fingers around his.

"She didn't ask for this," Spike responded. "Not easy, if you don't know what to do."

"But Angel will show her. You showed her," Buffy responded, leaning her shoulder into his. "It doesn't have to be as hard for her."

Spike shook his head. "No, it doesn't. But it won't ever be easy."

A nod from the Slayer. "Life rarely is. Guess unlife too."

The Vampire smiled, turning to face his lover. "S'been worth it, though. For me, at least."

"Yeah, I'd have to say, beyond the ruined wardrobe, near death experiences, and frequent need for manicures, it's been worth it," she answered, smiling back at him. Studying his rugged face, his beautiful, blue eyes. "It gave me you. And the kids."

"I love you, Buffy," he whispered, leaning towards her and pressing his lips softly against hers.

She raised her palm to his cheek and held him to her. "I love you always, Spike."

"Every day."

END

Epilogue to follow.


	47. A Garden Full of Roses

My friends,

This is the end of the longest, and possibly the last, of the Peacemaker Books. I always say that 'this book is the last' and I always start again. But my life has taken such turns that I don't know when or how to come back.

What I do know is that I've loved the trip. I've read every comment. Every email. Every word of every note you've sent and to know that I've inspired such response is... incredible to me. That you've cared enough about this story to read for, wow, two years now, is incredible. I am honoured.

I am blessed.

Many thanks go out with this story. I wish I could name you all, but, alas, that would require a chapter unto itself. But thank you to those of you who have been there for me through it all. To Bittn, and SpikesWillingSlave, to Kay (who actually outlined the story from which this book grew), and to Theresa, who's constant "what will I do without this story?" 's made me keep going. To Dusty and to Crystal and Dave, as well as to Sylvia and Redd and MaryAnne and, gosh, so many of you who have been there all along.

Thank you.

And to three women without which I'd be a paltry excuse for a writer, my incredible betas, Melissa, Pat and Linds. These girls take what rolls out of my mind and make it readable. They edit on one to two day's notice and turn my stories into something worth reading. They give it to me straight. They give me support. They make me ... not embarrassing to every English professor I've ever known. Without them, this story is NOTHING. Without their support, it wouldn't exist. Without their encouragement, it wouldn't have been completed. Without their friendship and loyalty, it would never have been.

Thank you.

And to everyone who has read this – one chapter or seven books – thank you. It's you for whom I've written. You for whom I hope to write again. And you that inspire me every day of my life.

Thank you.

Again, who knows where the tide may take me. I hope that I will at least revisit this world in short story format. But, for now, I lay this epic to rest with many tears, much love, and fond memories. I dedicate it to you. All of you reading this now.

I hope I have done well for you.

A million thanks....

Cheery Vibes

_Nimue_

"Though she be but little, she is fierce." William Shakespeare – _A Midsummer Night's Dream_

www.DragonflyMoon(dot)net

www.livejournal (dot) com/users/nimuetucker/

AlwaysEveryday (at) 

HowtoMakeaVampireSundae (at) 

Title: A Garden Full of Roses- Epilogue – Meant to Be

Author: Nimue

Rating: PG-13

Pairing: Spike/Buffy (Most major characters included)

Feedback: Yes, please NimueofAvalon71 (at) 

Disclaimer: All characters belong to someone other than me; they belong to Mutant Enemy, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, Fox, UPN, WB, their affiliates, lawyers and all sorts of other folks that aren't me. :::sigh::::

Summary: One more blessed event for the clan. One more moment where the apocalypse isn't near. One garden full of roses.

A Garden Full of Roses

Thousands of roses: reds and pinks and creams, dotted the fence line of the large yard, all in bloom as if they were an orchestra of colour and the conductor had led them to a crescendo. It was Anya who had pulled that off. It seems that vengeance has a side effect: the ability to coerce beauty into existence even before or after its time.

The house was... amazing. There was really no other word for what Xander and his crew had done. A monument to death and foreboding had been transformed into the home of peace. Stained glass and polished railings, marble and brass and intricate stone work had turned it into not only a fortress fit for the army of the One, but a place where all were welcome, and none, save for the evil, were turned away.

In nine short months, everything had changed.

It was twilight and random conversations dotted the yard.

"Dawn's family must be very rich...."

"Why choose night-time? It just seems so... gloomy."

"You'd think with a place like this, they could have at least bought Dom."

"Do you think that those flowers are real?"

"I heard that Dawn's sister and her husband are in law enforcement."

Buffy stood at the window of one of the second floor guest rooms and watched the crowd mill about her yard. "Is his family really that big, Dawnie?"

"I tried to get you to meet them," Dawn answered as Tara fussed with her dress, buttoning and snapping and trussing. "He's one of seven. The youngest. All married."

"Gah," Buffy answered, shuddering and adjusting Emma's garland of roses. "You had to go big. Please don't tell me you plan on adding seven more to the crowd."

"Like sister, like..." Dawn began, the thought fading into giggles.

Buffy returned the giggle, watching Spike talking to Xander and Giles by a fountain in the yard. He was in a tux and animatedly explaining some manly manner of business. What made it amusing was the tiny girl wrapped in a white blanket, tucked into his arm as he spoke. Their third. Their last.

Their own army.

After the events of her early pregnancy, it had all been rather quiet and uneventful. For once, there was no horrible morning sickness. No hellgods trying to take her unborn child. No spells or incantations to keep her alive through the birth. No incubators or prayers or truly tense moments.

Just a few more months, a belly that wouldn't quit growing, a normal trip to the hospital, less than three hours of labour, thanks to Slayer muscles, and a perfect, full term, daughter.

A daughter they'd named Crescent. An honouring of the soul's love of the sky, without the painful reminders of what had happened to her former shell.

The army grew.

It seemed that would be a never-ending cycle with their clan. By Valentine's Day, both Anya and Takina had announced their own additions to come. Two more into this insane, wonderful world. And Willow and Tara were rethinking their one time stints with motherhood.

The army would grow some more.

Soft lights flickered on in the yard below and Tara finished affixing the veil to Dawn's shining hair. Spike looked up to the second floor window and nodded. The men went about seating guests.

"I think that's our cue, Dawnie," Buffy said, softly smiling and crouching down in a swish of pale pink satin to make sure Will still clung to the miniature satin pillow and hadn't completely destroyed the small tuxedo he had wrapped around his little body.

The bride took a deep breath and smiled. "Just another day."

"Yeah, right," Anya snarked, her swollen belly much larger the second time around. She had backed out of being a bridesmaid after realizing that she'd look like a large, pink, whale in a sheer satin dress at eight months. But still, she was as involved as ever, taking over the planning duties and trying not to complain about the gymnast residing in her abdomen.

"What? I mean, we've lived together for a year..." Dawn argued, stepping down from the platform and gathering her nerve. "Can't be all that different."

A chuckle from Buffy and Anya laid that to rest. "Yeah. Okay."

"Well, it hasn't stopped you guys from..."

"Kids in the room," Willow chided, taking a last look in the mirror. "Dawnie, I think you've actually picked the first bridesmaid dress ever that I may actually wear again."

Anya shot her a pointed glance, after visibly shifting her entire body to be able to look at Willow. "I'll try not to resent that remark."

Willow shrugged, a guilty look on her face. "Sorry."

A soft knock came at the door of the room. "Decent?" A familiar British accent asked, forcing Buffy to smile. She always smiled when she heard that voice.

"As we'll ever be," Buffy responded, watching the doorknob turn and Spike appear, looking dashing in a black Armani tux.

"Likes of you, I doubt it," he answered, smiling sneakily and planting a hard kiss on his lover's mouth.

"Would you cut it out?" Dawn whined, pushing the two apart. "MY day. Mine. Mine. You make out later. After everyone leaves. Or at least takes pepto."

Buffy rolled her eyes. Spike kissed her once more to annoy his kid sis-in-law. "So easy to get under her skin sometimes, Pet."

"Be nice," Buffy answered, patting Spike's butt and pulling away. "Crescent?"

"Takina's got her," Spike answered, a soft smile on his face. He loved his children, almost to a fault.

"Holy guy?" Anya asked.

"Looking stuffy and hot at the altar," Spike answered.

"Groom?" Dawn asked.

"Jetted for Paris 'bout an hour ago," Spike chided, walking towards Dawn and taking her hand. She sighed dejectedly. "Looking like a ghost and pacing up and down in the corner of the yard," he finally answered, kissing her cheek.

"Better be," Dawn answered.

"Or he'd have me to deal with," Spike quipped, winking at Buffy and coercing Dawn out the door.

"I thought you didn't want me to get married?"

"I don't, Pet. Think you should stay a vestal virgin forever."

"Uh, a little late for the vir..."

"I honestly don't want to hear that, Niblet."

She giggled.

"So why would you beat him up if he didn't marry me?" Dawn asked as they reached the staircase.

Spike leaned down and scooped her up, carrying her down the long stone stairs, not wanting to chance her falling or dirtying the dress he'd been forced to hear about for months.

"Because you want it, Love. What my girls want, they get," Spike answered, setting her down at the bottom of the steps and turning to make sure the rest were in tow.

"Aw, you're so sweet," Dawn giggled, kissing his cheek.

Spike shuddered. "Leave me a little dignity, yeah?"

"Fine," she answered, hands dropping to her sides. Buffy, Willow and Tara all appeared in front of her, Emma and Will standing at the very front of the line, extremely patiently, waiting for their cue. Anya trundled outside to oversee the festivities. And probably to collapse for a while.

Music began to play, drifting in from the garden. "Ready, Love?" Spike asked, taking Dawn's hand.

Dawn shook once like a dog, and then straightened her spine, standing tall and looking like a princess. "Ready."

The kids walked out to much 'ooh'ing and 'ahh'ing, a chorus of 'Aren't they cute?'s in their wake. The girls began to file out one by one.

"Am I ready?" Dawn asked, looking at Spike in a moment of sheer panic.

Spike smiled, raising an eyebrow and hooking her arm in his. He never answered. Only winked.

She spun around the custom made dance floor like a music box ballerina, white satin and pearls glimmering in the soft glow of the outdoor lighting. Her smile was the size of the full moon above, her glow nearly as radiant. Guests milled around, talking about the breathtaking beauty of the ceremony, the bride, the yard, the mansion, the couple. Everything.

It had worked. They'd done something without an apocalyptic interruption.

It helped that Tara and Willow had spent a month reinforcing the wards outside the mansion's perimeter. And that the LA crew had spent all week cleaning out the smaller nests to give the Sunnydale's time to pay attention to the last minute details.

Weddings at the Hellmouth took a little more planning than the normal.

Buffy sat at a table near the dance floor, sipping a diet coke and holding her newest daughter in her arms. Watching. Relieved that her little sister had pulled it off. That things were... right now. Crescent had made it in one piece with very little drama. The wedding had no growling demons or fire and brimstone interruptions.

This must be what it's like to be a regular girl, Buffy mused, caressing the side of her daughter's face with a soft hand.

"May I have a dance?" A familiar voice asked from just above her. But not the normal familiar voice. Buffy looked up to see Angel standing over her, smiling down at the little girl in her arms.

Buffy looked around to see if there was anyone else he could be asking. Spike had gone inside to prepare their gift to the happy couple.

"Uh, sure," Buffy answered, standing up. "Kinda have Crescent, though," she answered, holding the baby instinctively closer.

"I can take her," another voice answered quietly. "I mean... if you trust me." Buffy spun to see Cordelia standing there in a pale blue dress, looking beautiful in the moonlight. She hadn't been back to Sunnydale since... According to their conversations with Wesley and Gunn, she hadn't been out anywhere since they'd got back to LA. She just hid in the darkness and... come to terms with it. Angel was nearly as scarce, never leaving her side except to battle some demon or another.

But somehow, they'd got her here.

"Of course," Buffy answered, looking to Angel for confirmation. Angel nodded and Buffy bundled the child and settled her in Cordelia's arms.

It was as if a weight lifted from the woman's shoulders as the child cooed up at her, giggling. Tears began to fall down Cordelia's face, watching the little girl. "You sure you don't mind?"

Buffy felt like crying herself, watching the relief that flooded her high school friend just at being trusted with something so precious. "Uh, Cordy, her daddy's a Vampire, remember?"

Cordelia chuckled, a tear escaping. "She's really pretty. How'd that happen?"

Buffy rolled her eyes and allowed Angel to lead her to the dance floor.

"She okay?" Buffy asked, as Angel led her in a slow dance.

He nodded solemnly. "It's been hard. I mean, adjusting."

Buffy returned the nod. "Wesley said she wasn't around much. Don't tell me you're teaching her to brood."

A chuckle from the Vampire. "No. I mean, she's down sometimes. It's hard. She'll never have... this."

"This?" The Slayer asked, squinching her nose.

"A family. Kids. Big wedding."

"I see the kids, but there's no reason you can't make an honest... Vampiress out of her."

Angel cocked his head. "Buffy, you know that I can't... finish it."

A shocked look came across Buffy's face. He didn't... he hadn't figured out that Willow and Tara had... In all of the fuss when Cordy had been turned, no one had told him about the rest of the spell. The shock gave way to amusement. "Angel?"

"Yeah." He looked as confused as she was amused.

Spike took that moment to interrupt. "Leave you alone for ten minutes and you're after my old man," he joked good-naturedly.

Buffy turned to her mate and giggled as the song stopped. "Spike, we didn't tell him."

"Tell him what, Pet?" Spike asked, wrapping his arm around Buffy's slim waist in a not-so-discreet gesture of possession.

"About the spell. When Cordy was turned?"

Spike furrowed his brow a moment, trying to figure out what his girl was talking about, until it dawned on him in an instant. An enormous guffaw escaped the blond Vampire's lips. "You mean, the poof hasn't..."

Buffy shook her head, trying to control a giggle.

"It would be nice if you'd let me in on the joke that I'm apparently the cause of," Angel snarked, annoyed.

Spike tried to choke down the giggles. "Mate, you haven't tried to... You've spent all this time alone with Cordelia doing exactly what?"

"Teaching her to survive. Showing her how to fight. Trying to cheer her up a little," he answered, offended by the inquisition.

Buffy giggled. "I'm thinking you could really cheer her up."

Spike shook his head, tears streaming down his face. "You stupid ponce! The Witches bound your soul."

Angel cocked his head, trying to figure out what his Childe was babbling about through fits of laughter. "What?"

"Angel," Buffy breathed between laughs. "Willow... and Tara.... When they gave Cordelia back her soul.... It was sort of a twofer. They kind of fixed it so yours wouldn't go... poof... when you... have a happy."

For a moment, the elder Vampire looked stunned. Then the anger seeped in. "And you didn't tell me?"

"Thought you'd have figured it out by now, mate," Spike responded, pulling Buffy closer and trying to keep himself from falling to the floor laughing.

"Not something you should have kept..." Angel began.

"There was so much going on... what with the baby and with Cordelia and..." Buffy justified, still giggling.

Angel crossed his arms. "So I can? No. You wouldn't have... I'd have known...."

"'Pparently not, Peaches," Spike snarked.

"There will be no bloodshed at my wedding," Dawn joked coming up to the laughing crowd. "And no funnies without me knowing. What's up?"

"Nothing, Nibs," Spike choked out.

"Angel didn't know that Willow fixed his soul," Buffy giggled.

Dawn looked at Angel, then across at Cordelia, who was completely oblivious and cooing happily at the small girl in her arms. "You're kidding?"

Spike and Buffy shook their heads, watching Dawn try to suppress giggles of her own. "Um, oops?"

Angel turned, stalking over to Cordelia, whispering something into her ear. The Vampiress's eyes became huge as she looked at the three spectators, then back at Angel, her face a priceless mix of shock and ire. With long, graceful strides, she strode to Buffy, gently placing the child back into her arms and scowling.

"You're so gonna need new sheets," she commented, then spun on a strappy heel and strode into the mansion, Angel at her heels.

The crowd began to wane as the night advanced. Spike wanted to wait until just before the couple left to present his gift, but he didn't want to lose any of the crowd of well-wishers either. Buffy knew. They'd discussed it ad infinitum. Xander knew as he... well, he had to help them. But most of the rest of the crowd had no idea.

The music stopped and Spike strode to the center of the garden, Crescent in the crook of his arm, Buffy at his side, holding Will and towing Emma just behind.

"If I could have everyone's attention," the Vampire announced, without aid of a microphone.

The crowd spun towards the melodic voice and watched as Dawn and her new husband approached.

Buffy nodded. "First of all, thank you for coming to our home and sharing in this with us," she began. "I mean, you only get to marry your little sister off once."

"I hope," Spike grunted, under his breath.

Buffy elbowed him gently. "Stop that."

"Right, right," he conceded. "Before this boy takes off with my Niblet and prays he never hurts her..."

Brian and Dawn rolled their eyes simultaneously and Buffy nudged Spike once again. "Spike, they're already married."

"Doesn't mean I won't rip his head off and feed it to Pony if he steps out of line," Spike stage-whispered so that Dawn and Brian could hear it as well. Addressing the crowd once again, he continued. "We decided to give them a gift. Been lucky enough, of late, to have relocated into this humble abode..."

The crowd looked at the renovated modern palace behind them and groaned, "... so we'd thought we'd share our good fortune a bit. Buffy?"

Buffy whispered something to Will and he reached small hands into the breast pocket of his tuxedo. A ring emerged, with a key dangling from the end.

Dawn stepped forward, cocking her head and taking the key from her nephew. "What's this?"

Spike looked at her for a moment. "Fixed it up a bit."

Brian searched them both for an answer. "Buffy?"

"Revello," she answered, smiling softly. "Yours."

Dawn's face displayed every emotion known to man in an instant. Her lips opened and shut. Opened and shut. She swallowed. "Mom's?"

"Paid it off a while back. Transferred the deed last week," Spike answered.

"You gave us a house?" Brian asked, complete shock gripping him.

Buffy nodded, watching Dawn's eyes tear up. "You gave us a house," Dawn repeated, quietly, studying her sister and the man who had all but raised her after her mother's death. "You gave us our house."

In a fluid movement, Dawn spun, facing the crowd, and dangling the key. "They gave us a house!"

A roar came up from the crowd, the core of them, those who had been there all along, huddled just at the side of the stage. Xander. Willow. Tara. Anya. Giles. The newer members. The LA crew. All of them. Together. In one place.

Happy.

In a whirlwind of tears and hugs, Dawn attacked them all, gushing and glowing and babbling her thanks and her love and her joy. Brian watched her, smiling, and walked quietly to Spike.

"Do me a favour?" The boy asked, looking Spike right in the eye.

Spike nodded, studying the boy's face.

"Rip my head off and feed it to Pony if I ever hurt her."

The crowd was gone. Staff hired for the event cleaned the yard quietly as the overnight guests began to wander off to their rooms. It was nice to finally have the space to put up Wesley and Gunn and Fred, and even Angel, without offering air mattresses and sleeping bags.

The kids were asleep, tucked in their beds. The band was packed and gone.

All that was left was them, and a garden full of roses.

"Well, that went well," Buffy whispered, padding barefoot to where Spike stood on the wooden dance floor that Xander had made just for the event.

Spike nodded, staring at the moon. "Not too traumatic."

"Oh, stop," she chided, curling herself into his arms and snaking hers around his back.

He looked down at her beautiful face. "You sad it wasn't like this for us?"

Buffy sighed, laying her head against his chest and feeling him begin to sway, holding her body close. "I guess this is every little girl's princess dream."

Spike nodded, kissing the top of her head. "We should have done more then."

Buffy thought for a moment before looking up at his handsome face. "You know? It wouldn't have been right."

He cocked an eyebrow. "Why not?"

"Because I'm not a princess. And you're not a prince. We're.... I'm the Slayer and you're a Vampire and what we have is..."

"Different," Spike answered.

"Sacred," she agreed. "It's not about little girl dreams. It hasn't been for ... ever."

"Should still have them, you know. Dreams," Spike answered. "And I should be making them come true."

Buffy smiled. "I wouldn't give back any of it for this," she commented. "Spike, we were joined. No one was there to see it because no one can see us. Not really. Since that moment, none of this mattered anymore because I knew what it meant to be..."

"One," Spike finished, swaying her to music only they could hear.

"One," she repeated. "And I don't regret anything."

"Do you love me, Buffy?" Spike asked, smiling because he knew. He knew every moment of every day in every pore of his being.

"Always, baby," she answered, pushing up on her bare toes to press her lips to his. "Always."

He held her tight, feeling her. Knowing her.

Knowing One.

"I'll love you every day, Buffy. From now until the end of time."

Fin


End file.
